


Witchcraft

by Safire (dark_safire)



Series: Witchcraft (An Undertale Fanfiction) [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: And Determination, Ante-Monster Incorporation to Society, F/F, F/M, Fear leads to hate, Friends to Lovers, Head-canons everywhere, Insane Amounts of Fluff, It's a witch thing, Love for the unknown, Love is a big word, Might cause tooth ache, Mom!Reader, Monsterphobia, Not everything is awful, Plot happens, Post-Pacifist Route, Reader-Insert, Sans Has Issues, Selectively Mute Frisk, Slow Burn, Teacher!Reader, Tons of magic, Witch!Reader, there's always hope
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-05-12 16:30:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 64,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5672683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dark_safire/pseuds/Safire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only thing you were expecting after moving to Low Ebott was to finish your witch training, so you could stop leaving your son alone to go bathe in the lake under the light of the full moon. What you were not expecting was for the barrier to fall and your missing six year-old student to appear, followed by a group of monsters, fresh from the Underground, requesting your help in re-establishingtheir lost relationship with humans.<br/>You did <em>not</em> sign up for this.<br/>...<br/>Oh, and by the way, you're giving love advice to a skeleton flirting with a goat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Here Comes The D&D campaign

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Would That Make You Happy?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5053684) by [OnaDacora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnaDacora/pseuds/OnaDacora). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, first of all, I loooooved the mechanic of Sans and Hope/Reader in [WTMYH](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5053684/chapters/11621461/) (by OnaDacora <3), and I wanted to try something like that. Second, I noticed that most of the Post-Pacifist Route fics are also Post-Monster-Incorporation-To-Society and wanted to explore how we got to the point where a skeleton being my neighbor doesn't sound like a bad joke.  
> So, my three main objectives in this fic will be:  
> 1\. Explore Sans' interactions with a single mother other than Toriel and a child who's not Frisk.  
> 2\. Explore the Monster-Incorporation period (and be part of the party)  
> 3\. Build a Sans/Reader relationship from scratch, starting without any kind of romantic interest in the other. No hiding, denying or "maybe I'm misunderstanding this", just you two becoming friends and learning about each other while slowly (slowly) falling in love. (I'm going to take my sweet, sweet time with this, like LilyHellsing's _Strike a Chord_ 's level of sweet time. I'm sorry, I just love Slow Burns)  
> ...  
> Well, this is going to be a long journey...  
> And _yes,_ there MIGHT be an eventual trip to the bone-zone... but later, muchlater, so be patient.

You never did well around adults. Kids, animals, even teenagers, you could handle, and you did a pretty good job, but adults? No. No, no, no, no, nope. Adults were complicated; adults looked at you from above and treated you like a kid just because they were five, ten years older than you? Hell, even when you really _were_ a kid, that kind of condescending treatment really irked you; not even your parents treated you like that. No, adults were infuriating. Adults believed they couldn’t be wrong, that all their answers were the right answers, and that they knew the right way for you to live your life. After three years working as a teacher (two of them in a high school, and not counting your practice in a middle school) you had seen this behavior from the parents too many times, and in equally as many shapes and forms. Because to an adult, you came to understand that at some point, everything outside the adult world became unimportant and any time their kids disagreed with them, it was them ‘throwing a tantrum’. Anything outside of their bubble was wrong, irrational, useless, or just plain stupid. And that kind of thinking always got on your nerves. As a teacher (and as a mother) you wanted to punch them right in the face.

Your parents said it was a “witch thing”.

Ah, you still remember your mother's words the night before you took that train to Mt. Ebott with your 3 year old son, for the final steps of your witch training:

“ _When people see what we can do, what we are, kids say ‘fairy’, while adults say ‘witch’, and even when they’re using the right name, you must never forget that the implications are different._ _Kids love magic. Adults fear it. And fear, my child, leads to hate._ ”

You made sure to always remember it, and kept your magic well-hidden, especially now that you were in the countryside. (After all, country folk have always been more superstitious and believed in magic more than most people) For the last year you'd kept your rituals and potions in the basement and told Max to never talk about it to others (“This is our secret, okay, sweetie?”), while you worked as a teacher at the local school. And it worked pretty damn well, if you do say so yourself.

The town you were living in, simply called “Low Ebott”, had around four hundred inhabitants, 68 of which were children between the ages of 3 and 12. The school was divided into three sections; you were in charge of teaching and taking care of the kids between the ages of 6 and 9, a class total of 17.

And, as was bound to happen in a town as small as Low Ebott, in a little more than two months you got to know everyone, especially the mothers of your students. You learned everything about the townsfolk in no time; who they were, who they were related to, what they did, what was the most embarrassing moment in their lives (and you were truly pleased to found out that, against your expectations, no one gave that much of a damn about you being a twenty-three year-old single mother with a three year-old son; you weren’t even the only single mother in town).

But who you got to know better than anyone else were the kids, and you loved those kids. You made sure they knew you love them and that they could rely on you for anything (God knew you had seen teenagers in your previous job that could have used someone who believed in them when they were little). And from all the seventeen kids, you must admit to yourself, that you favorite, was Frisk.

Even when at the beginning it was complicated to have a selective mute come to your classroom in the middle of the school year, you grew attached to them. Frisk was the only orphan in town, and lived at the local church with the sisters (you weren’t really sure what religion they followed here, it was something pagan, related to the spirits of the forest and wicca stuff, if you weren’t misinterpreting it), so they had a lot of time to spend alone. You still remember when they came the first day, the sisters never said were they found them, but the kid looked like, wherever it was, it wasn’t a good place. Sometime after that, they started hanging out around you, following you to the forest when you were collecting stuff for your rituals, helping you clean the classroom after school or just playing with your son while you prepared your classes. They were the first to come to school and the last to leave, they loved spending time in your house and made a wonderful playmate for Max, and when they warmed up enough to you, they surprised you talking. Not a lot, just a couple of words from time to time, a little “Hi” in the mornings and a soft “Bye” in the afternoon. One time, when you were in the forest, they caught you… “throwing glitter” when they fell from a tree, and started calling you “Miss Fairy” or “Fairy Teacher”, it was so cute you didn’t tried stopping them.

That’s why you found yourself being extra worried that first day they didn’t came to school. You went to the church as soon as you could and asked the sisters if the little kid was sick, a bad feeling twisting your stomach, they insisted Frisk was an adventurous kid, and that they went to the mountain early in the morning and probably just lost track of time. They promised to make sure they were fine and give them a good scold for worrying you.

That night you went to sleep with that anxious feeling still twisting your guts, hugging Max close to your chest (“Mom, I can’t breathe!”).

The next morning you woke up already knowing the news. Frisk was missing.

Classes were canceled and everyone spent the next two days looking for the kid. You climbed up the side of Mt. Ebott until the magic of the barrier made every hair in your body stand. The barrier was pure condensed magic, it was a literal wall of energy, there was no way a human, let alone a kid, could pass through it. Just a user of magic was able to trespass such ancient power. When you returned to the town everyone looked at you with the same question in their eyes, but you just shook your head, there was no Frisk up there.

Today is a Friday afternoon, you’re cleaning the classroom before going home, trying not to think too much about the missing child. It’s been almost a week, and even when you wanted to fill a police report the rest of the townsfolks weren’t so sure (something about a problem with the feds before you moved in). You’re still worried, but the thought of Max being safe in your parents’ house keeps you stable, he’s not coming back until you’re sure there’s _not_ a kidnapper on town. God, you’re on edge lately…

You were just ready to lock the door and go home when you felt it. Like a light suddenly being turned down, a large amount of magic, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

The barrier fell.

The classroom keys are falling too, but you don’t really care, because, right now, you’re running with all your might to Mt. Ebott.

* * *

The school wasn’t that far from the outskirts of the mountain, but you weren’t that good of a runner either, so the little race lets you without breath. With shaking legs and a heart rushing a mile a minute, you take a quick look around; the trees cover you and no one comes this close to the mountain due to the legends, the sun is setting, it looks safe enough. You start rummaging through your messenger bag, still looking around.

You pull out a couple small pine branches tied with red yarn. It is an ancient trick, to let the forest guide you, you had used it many times and it always worked, but…

You grimace remembering how it just fell lifeless to the ground when you tried to use it to found Frisk. You look at the green leaves, debating whether or not it’s worth it, when two little arms trap your waist. You yelp, turning with a jump.

“WHAT THE-”

Your words stop in your throat when you found a little smiling face with closed eyes looking at you through a window of brown bangs.

“For the ancient Gods and the celestial beings, Frisk, what the he-” Kid’s present! “-ck happened?!” They just look at you with an innocent smile, like it wasn’t that big of a deal. “Oh, no. Nononono, don’t even _dare_ to think you can smile out of this, Frisk. Everyone was worried! We looked for you two whole days! Where have you been? What happened? Are you hurt?! Have you eated _anything_ in the last week?! Oh, gods, what water have you been _drinking_?! Wha-” A thought strikes you, and you froze. The kid came from the mountain, from _up_ the mountain, but _you_ searched up there, there was nothing. Nothing except… “Frisk…” You knell in front of them, a nasty felling creeping up your neck, making your hairs rise. “ _Where_ were you?”

Their smile just grows wider and you suck a breath before-

“Frisk! My child, I have told you not to run like that!” A voice comes from behind some bushes, and when you rise your head to look at the owner you found a very big, very humanoid, goat wearing a purple dress. You can almost swear your heart stop beating. “Oh, well, hello young lady…” She (at least it sounds like a she) clears her throat and puts her hands in front of her lap. “Could you please, uhm, let go of my child?”

Very ( _very_ ) slowly you stand back on your feet (and, _god dammit_ , she’s still a head taller than you), eyes never leaving her. You can see more monsters coming from behind her, another goat creature (taller and with _way_ bigger horns), some kind of siren or mermaid carrying a yellow… lizard person (you’re _not_ saying reptilians), a couple of skeletons (is… is that a skeleton wearing an armor? What’s this? Someone’s Dungeons  & Dragons campaign?). You take a deep breath (oh, Gods, everyone is staring at you with eyes as wide as yours) and clear your throat, preparing your best “teacher voice”.

“ _No one_ is going _nowhere_ until you explain me _what’s happening._ ”

Frisk hugs your leg, giggling softly, and you feel at least a little bit better when your statement startles the monsters, even if it is just because they’re surprised.


	2. Miss Fairy Gets A Concussion

The goat woman (who presents herself as Toriel) takes on the duty of filling you in with the story, and Frisk spends the whole time sitting on your lap (if it is due to them missing you or because they believe the monsters will attack otherwise, you’re not sure). You make your best to play dumb through the story, saying you didn’t know anything about the barrier or the monsters living underground (“Two thousand years is a lot of time for us humans…”). When one of the monsters (a short skeleton with a blue parka whose name you don’t remember right now) asks you how are you so calm seeing monsters for the first time if you didn’t even _knew_ they were real you turn to him, a blank expression on your face and…

“I have no idea.” You blurt out without thinking, is the most sincere thing you have say in this conversation. “Like, I really don’t know what’s happening, I’m so nervous I can’t feel anything? Maybe?” You let out a nervous laugh and turn to Toriel again, petting Frisk’s head absently “Let’s just sort this out before I get out of the shock and pass out, okay?”

Toriel nods slightly worried. “Well, that’s pretty much the story. Frisk fell,” You bite your tongue again, stopping yourself from asking how the hell a six year-old passed through the barrier. “they befriended the monsters of the Underworld and finally broke the barrier. That’s it.”

Two thousand years. Two thousand years of ancient magic tore to pieces by a six year-old. The Circle is _not_ going to be happy about this…

Or maybe they will, the Circle is weird.

“And you all came up here as some sort of… _exploration_ party?”

“Yes. Asgore and I” She signaled to the other goat creature and herself. Asgore, Asgore… if you remembered well Asgore was the name of the Monster King on the legend. Could this be, like, his great-great-great grandson? “Wished to talk with the human authorities in person, and as soon as possible. Undyne and Papyrus” Fish lady and tall skeleton, got it. “are here as our, ehem, _bodyguards._ ” Oh, so this two are like a big deal between monsters, alright. Then Asgore _is_ probably the actual Monster King, and Toriel is… his sister? Oh, but those puppy dog eyes he’s giving her were saying something else. So, his wife? Girlfriend? Hmm, but Toriel didn’t looked really thrilled with Asgore. Were they fighting? Maybe? Hmm…“Alphys, the Royal Scientist, wishes to inspect this side of the barrier” No problem with that. “And Sans…” She points to the shorter skeleton, who gives her a lazy smile, Toriel slowly lowers her hand, putting it back in her lap and tilting her head in confusion. “Why did you come with us, Sans?”

“i just wanted to _goat_ for a while.” He says winking at her (how does a skull shift like that?) and you hear a chorus of groans (“SANS! NOT IN FRONT THE NEW HUMAN!”) and Toriel’s soft giggles.

You look at him (all smiles, taking a nap against a tree besides Toriel), then look at her (a little smile on her face and a light shining in her eyes). Oh. Ooooooooh. Okay, you get it, you can read the situation.

But you’re not sure how good of an idea is to bring your ex and your actual to the same exploration party.

“So…” You fake a cough to catch her attention back. “I suppose you want me to, uhm, take you to the human authorities, right?”

“Oh! Yes, dear, that would help us a lot!” Toriel looks delighted and you’re not sure how you’re going to take this bunch of happy, go lucky monsters back to earth.

“Toriel.” She turns to look at you, eyes beaming. Well, if you’re gonna rain in someone’s parade, better do it quickly. “I don’t believe that’s a good idea.”

“Why wouldn’t it?”

“Well, humans believe…” Oh, Gods, this is going to hurt. “Humans believe that monsters are… ‘dangerous’”

There’s silence, and you can feel the ambient getting colder.

“WHAT?! After they were ones to put us DOWN THERE?!”

You jump when Undyne growls, trying to hide your anxiety and slight panic. “Well, there _was_ a war-”

“Humans were the one to START the war!” Undyne looks way more than just ‘mad’ and you need to force yourself not to flinch.

“Yeah, but humans are not-”

“and what about the witches?”

You can almost _feel_ your calm breaking.

“W-witches?” _Play it cool. Play it cool. For God’s sake, PLAY IT COOL._

“the text books said they were the ones putting up the barrier in the first place, there _has to be_ at least one nearby, watching over it.” There is. The station is on the other side of the mountain, some warlock guy named Edmund lives there; he has probably alerted the Circle already. “ _bee_ sides,” Sans looks at you, making that pun somehow sound _extremely threatening_ , and you make your best to not look as panicked as you are (“This guy haven’t seen a witch in his whole life, there’s nothing to fear. Just breathe, just play dumb and breathe”) “such a large amount of magic suddenly disappearing” Breathe, c’mon, breathe. “it must have attracted their attention . i’m sure there’s at least one coming here right now” In, out, in, out. “if they’re not here already, of course.” You can swear the little bastard looks at you. “but _tibia_ honest, is more than anything a _bone_ _feeling_ ”

You open your mouth just at the same time Asgore stands up, tall like a tree and way more intimidating than any goat you’ve ever seen “We will NOT talk with the witches!”

Everyone jumps a little, and even Sans looks a little taken aback. Toriel is the only one who looks unfazed by Asgore’s voice “If talking with the witches help us make amends with the humans, maybe we should, _Asgore_.”

Toriel’s voice has some kind of sedative effect on Asgore, the goat monster looks suddenly surprised and, gladly, less intimidating. He still looks slightly mad, but “Tori-Toriel, the witches have failed us before, they said they would talk with the humans to stop the war and the next day they trapped us underground, we can’t relate on them!”

You feel a pang of sadness twist your stomach, but keep quiet about it. Even when a group of warlocks _did_ put up the barrier two thousand years ago, it was _not_ a movement approved by the Council, they were mercenaries and did it for the pay, condemning both magic users AND monsters.

Just the Gods knew what kind of future you could have today if the barrier never existed, the things you could do with your magic, the freedom your son could have…

Monsters, apparently, didn’t know about this last part of the story, because they had started an argument about if they should or shouldn’t talk with the witches. Night was getting closer and you were thinking how to tell them to drop it for the day and let you go home, when Frisk started pulling your sleeve.

“What’s it, buddy?” You asked in a whisper, trying not to catch Toriel’s attention (or worse, Sans’s)

They just jumped from your lap and pointed to a path in the forest. You didn’t need to be a genius to get that one.

You follow Frisk through the forest, trying to stay close to where the monsters are so they won’t believe you’re trying to do anything to their _ambassador_ (who the hell names a six year-old ambassador?!). Frisk stops in front of a tall pine tree; and you recognize it as the tree they fell from a couple of months ago, the “glitter incident” tree. They turn with a smile on their face.

“I want you to help me being the ambassador.”

You blink a couple of times, taking your time to process it. You’re not sure what surprised you the most, Frisk saying a whole sentence or the sudden petition.

“… what?”

“I want you to help me being the ambassador.” They repeat, smile growing wider. “I asked Asgore what an ambassador was and it sounded a lot like what you do with the parents.” Two full sentences, maybe you should try playing the lottery today. “Please, Miss Fairy, pleeeeeeease.”

The attack of the puppy dog eyes, you’ve seen that way too many times. “Frisk, listen, I am a teacher, not a diplomat, I can’t do this.”

“But you can do magic!”

Your head jerks towards the monsters a couple of feet away; it looks like they didn’t hear a thing. “I _don’t_ do magic, Frisk.” You say through your teeth. “That was a light trick, hun, it happens sometimes-”

“But Sans did the same thing.”

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhit.

This was bad.

“Humans _can’t_ use magic, Frisk.”

“But you’re not human, you’re a fairy!” They smile wider. “I’m sure you can use your magic to help the monsters!”

You sigh frustrated. “Magic doesn’t work like tha-”

“Then you DO admit you are a fairy!” _Fuck_.

“I am _not_ a fairy.”

“Then you are that thing they were talking about…” Oh, _no_. “You’re a… a witch!”

You’re fucked. You’re so, _so fucked_.

“Kid, you can’t say a word about it.” You practically plead.

“Why not? We can use your magic to help them!”

“Didn’t you hear Asgore?! Monsters don’t like magic users!” You look over your shoulder while talking in hushed whispers, trying to not drag the monsters attention.

“We can make them like you!” Frisk’s face lights. “We can show them you’re a good witch!”

“I’m not sure that’s going to-” Your voice dies in your throat, Frisk is half way up the tree. Your heart stops for a second. “FRISK!”

“I’ll just climb to the top and fall, and then you can catch me, like last time.” They keep climbing, your heart rushing in your chest.

“Frisk, get down here, NOW!”

“I’m fin-”

And then everything is slow motion. You can hear every beat of your heart pounding on your ears when Frisk slips, the tiny branch he was using as support splitting with a loud snap, their little body falling backwards.

You act on instinct, your body moving towards the tree, not even caring when a couple of black eye sockets with little white pinpricks as pupils turn to look at you. It just happens, the wild, raw magic (red like blood, with little sparks, and a lighting-like form) rushes out of your body to catch Frisk. It slowly lowers them to your arms.

Ah, magic, such a beautiful thing. Kids see it and say

“Miss Fairy!” Frisk laughs.

But adults, adults see it and say

“witch!” A deep voice calls behind you.

Your blood runs cold and you can see Frisk’s face turning pale. You hear the sound of something cutting the wind and-

TUMP.

It takes you a couple of seconds to process that the sound was made by an object hitting the back of your head. You have just the right amount of time to drop Frisk and finish your mother’s words before passing out.

“ _Even when they’re saying the right name, you must never forget that the implications are different._

_Kids love magic, adults fear it._

_And fear, my child, leads to hate._ ”

Everything goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so, I'm writing chapter 7 (I have never write a chapter 7 of anything) and *that* was supposed to be the original chapter 2, but, uh, plot happened ._.  
> 


	3. Magically Boned

You wake up in your bed, your cellphone is dead, but the big clock in the wall says that is seven. Classes start at nine due to the night here being longer, winters being colder too, and you debate whether or not to take a shower or sleep a little more before waking Max up. Gods, you had the weirdest dream ever, Frisk disappeared for a week and then came back as the ambassador of monsters and the hero who broke the barrier. That was plainly weird.

A six year-old breaking the barrier, yeah, right.

You were just starting to stretch when you heard a soft… snoring?

Slowly turning around you found… a skeleton, a skeleton in a blue parka, sitting in a chair in front of your bed, and, apparently, sleeping. It _had_ to be real, didn’t it? Why could it be the floating chocolate island dream? Or even the Caribbean beach dream? The one with the hot British pirates? Please? No? Aw...

You move enough to sit on the bed, thinking how to get out of this, when a sudden pain starts throbbing in the back of your head. Isn’t that were that thing hit you just before passing out? Ugh, you just hope it doesn’t turn into a lump. Fuck, it feels like-

You feel your stomach turning upside down and rolling inside you, a familiar yet forgotten felling, prelude of a disaster. You jump to your feet, running out of the room and into the bathroom across the hallway, you can hear Sans’s startled yelp before throwing the door open. You get to the toilet just in time to flip the lid and feel your lunch rushing up your throat. It burns, it tastes bad and the smell makes you cry. Fuck.

It really couldn’t be the hot British pirates, huh?

A pair of rough, boney hands brush your hair and hold it behind your head. Gods, if you weren’t occupied throwing your stomach through your mouth, you would be pretty damn embarrassed. No one has held your hair while you puked since you were a kid, not even when you started drinking. And, to put the cherry on top, the one doing it is some monster you just met, just out of the underground, first contact with a human that’s not a little kid and is helping you puke, what a beautiful cultural exchange.

Even when, you know, he or one of his friends was the one to give you the concussion in the first place.

This is just _not_ your day.

“Thanks.” You gasp standing up, not daring to look at him looking like that (there’s still some pride in you, somewhere). You flush the toilet, turn slowly and start cleaning your mouth with water before even daring to touch your toothbrush. “So,” Where is the toothpaste? “do you have something to share with the class?” You turn to look at him, and your teacher face must be pretty damn good, because he looks a little anxious (is that sweat? _On a skull?_ ).

“i, uh, wanted to apologize for,” Awkward cough “throwing a bone at your head…”

Oh, so it _was_ him and it _was_ … a bone?

Where the…

“Please tell me you didn’t, like, took your arm out and threw it at me.”

He looks taken aback, a soft shade of light blue in his cheekbones (he _is_ sweating) “uh, no, it was a, uhm, a magical bone…”

“A magical bone?”

“a magical bone…”

“… can I know why?”

“it, uh, it looked like you were hurting the kid…” _Of course._

“Knew it.”

Having him this close, you notice that he is a little less than a head shorter than you. That makes you feel at ease, he didn’t looked like an adult; he looked like… a young adult? Someone that’s not an adult? You’re not sure, but still feel more comfortable talking with him than talking with Toriel. A not-adult, you can handle this, even if he’s a monster, you can relax a little.

“So,” You say while brushing your teeth. If you remembered correctly, Sans was the one who made all those silly puns “you literally _threw me a bone_ , uh?”

His eye sockets grow wider, somehow. “i, uh-” Jack pot.

“If it hit me in the head, does that mean I really am a _bonehead_?” He snickers at that one, and you feel more relaxed. Yes, you can handle this “Then I was, like, just literally _boned_?” More little giggles, his shoulders are shacking “Oh, wait, but it was a magical bone, so I was _magically boned_ , or maybe _magic boned me_ ” He is about to explode, and you feel the smile creeping in your face while you finish cleaning your mouth “’Never have I ever been magically boned by a skeleton in a forest’, yes, beating that one is going to be-”

He can’t hold it anymore, a loud snort followed by a laugh loud as a dog’s bark and the soft crackling of magic in the air. Yes, it was always easier to get real answers from others when they felt comfortable; that was something you learned in your last job.

“So,” You look at him, a soft smile; close enough for him to feel your presence but not enough to make it uncomfortable, a face that wants answers but doesn’t demand them “did the kid sent you up here?”

Sans chuckles halfheartedly and the white lights in his eyes look a little dimmer. Ah, so monster and human emotions have similar ways of manifesting… “nah, the kid’s really mad at me. they just stopped talking and signaled papyrus to tell me they didn’t want to talk with me.” He looks at you, that impossible wink making a new apparition “you could say they’re _mad_ _to the bone_ ”

You snicker, you have always liked jokesters “It’s the least you deserve for giving their favorite teacher a concussion.” You say fixing your hair “Well, only teacher.” He lets out another soft laugh and you continue trying to make yourself look at least _slightly_ presentable “Then who made you apologize? Toriel?”

You can hear him yelp, the light blue becoming darker (a magic blush? Interesting…). Bull’s eye.

“hey, i’m a big boy, okay? i know when i _goat_ to apologize” Repeating the same joke?

“So it _was_ Toriel.”

Sans doesn’t say anything more, looking at his pink sleepers like they were the most interesting thing in the world, face blue as the ocean. You’re about to turn when his voice stops you “the kid really loves you, and tori” _Tori?_ “does it too, especially after saving frisk from that fall.” He clears his nonexistent throat “she says there’s nothing closer to monsters within humans than a witch. she, uh, she and the kid have really high hopes on you…”

Aw, that‘s awfully cute. It is also the complete opposite of what you wanted to do, too.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help with this whole ‘monster ambassador’ thing.” You say stepping out of the bathroom “I don’t know what Frisk’s been saying about me, but I’m just a teacher, not a politician, not a diplomat, just an elementary school teacher with a four year-old son.”

“you’re also a witch.” He points out.

“Just half the day _and_ it just gave a concussion.” At least he has the decency to look embarrassed by that. “Look, hun, I’d love to help, but I’ve been carefully avoiding dealing with adults and being in the spotlight for years, I just don’t do well with them, I can hardly handle the parents.” You turn around, a pleading smile on your face. “I can let you lot stay here for the night, and tomorrow I can take you to the station on the other side of the mountain, the guard will put you in contact with the other witches and they can help you, but don’t count on me to actually go out there. That’s just _not_ how I roll.”

Sans doesn’t look happy with that, but he gives you an understanding nod and you feel a little more at ease. Whatever he was, Sans wasn’t an adult, and that was good.

“What time is it?” You ask turning and sighing; long, dark nights can be really confusing without a good watch.

“uh, night?” You raise an eyebrow and he shrugs “the kid took your keys and lead the way, we didn’t walk that long”

“Then it _is_ night-night.” And the clock in your wall needs new batteries. You give him an apologetic smile “Sorry, you guys surely have been waiting for a big bright sun and a pretty sky, but lately the days aren’t more than just ‘cloudy’, and with the whole ‘long, dark night’ thing there’s just not much light to enjoy here…” You sigh, feeling less tense every second “Must be a real downer, uh?”

Sans look at you with a mix between surprise, incredulity and pure confusion in his eyes (and you wonder how can a pair of eye sockets look so expressive) “it’s not that bad” He says, and you find out that you like his voice (deep and masculine, but somehow soothing). A nice voice, without doubt “i mean, sure the sky looked the same, but even then it was more, like-” He makes the universal gesture for ‘I don’t know how to say this’ “-real… even when it didn’t looked like it, you could tell _this_ was the real deal, i could feel it in the air, _in my bones_ ”

You snicker, and Sans looks pleased with the result “Glad you’re enjoying our awful weather.”

“i come from a town where is always snowing, trust me, it’s not that bad.”

You smile, taking your cellphone and its charger before turning toward the stairs “Guess you guys haven’t eaten anything since you came up here.” Sans shook his head “’k, I’ll make something to eat and explain my point to Toriel and the kid after dinner” You tie your hair in a ponytail, preparing for the titanic battle of making Frisk understand. The kid was really determinate, but could be also really stubborn when they wanted to “Don’t worry, bone boy, I won’t make you deliver bad news to your girlfriend.”

You wink and Sans becomes a blushing, stuttering mess, trying to hide his face in his hoodie’s fluff. It is _absolutely_ cute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flustered Sans is better Sans and Inspired Safire is better Safire, so I hope I down fall from this tide just yet...  
> Chapter 7 just became Chapter 8 too, btw, so there's more coming and _I haven't even started with the things I wanted to see_.  
>  Long journey? More like _infinite journey_


	4. The Skeleton In The Hat

“Frisk, for the last time, I’m not the right person for this.”

The kid makes signs with his hands so fast that you have troubles following them (and you’re happy that magical healing is a thing, reading signs with a concussion doesn’t sound like fun), but most of what they’re saying is “Please” and “I know you can do it” so it isn’t that big of a problem. You let out a heavy sigh, you don’t want to disappoint them, you really, _really_ don’t want to do it; but what else can you do? Go out there and be the monsters spokesperson? You weren’t any big name, just an elementary school teacher in a little countryside town. You were hardly able to make parents understand that there was nothing wrong with a boy liking dancing, let alone convince the world that there was nothing wrong with monsters walking along humans. What’s more, you were a witch; recklessly going out in public would mean putting your secret in the line, putting the magic society in danger, your parents, your _son_. You could _not_ risk Max’s safety like that.

No, they needed an expert, someone who knew what they were doing, not a twenty-four year-old teacher.

“Look, Frisk, it’s been a long day.” You say, filling suddenly really tired (cleaning was okay, but cooking for eight would have been _way_ more easier if they didn’t jumped every time you tried to use magic). You can talk about this tomorrow, try to make them understand your point “The barrier fell, you came back, monsters reappeared, the fact that I’m a witch is not a secret anymore and I got hit in the head with a magical bone.” You catch from behind the kid the glance Toriel sends Sans and the apologetic smile he gives in return “Let’s just all go to sleep, and tomorrow I’ll take you to the station, you can contact the Circle there.” You hear someone shuffling behind you.

“The Circle? What happened with the Council?” Asgore asks. Ah, right, they were underground.

“After the monsters were trapped underground by a group of mercenaries, the Council knew we were next.” You explain, turning to look at the surprised King “In order to protect us, magic users, the Council handed themselves to the authorities of that time, secretly forming a new head for the magic society before being executed: The High Circle of Magic…” Asgore looks a little taken aback and you can’t help biting your lip anxiously. _Kids love magic, while adults fear it_ “Some other magic users also stepped into the light, most of them did it to give their families time to escape… we, uh, we lost many of us after that, when the witch hunts started, and the new laws dictated that it was forbidden for us to reveal our identities…” _And fear, my child,_ “Not that anyone would want to do it, of course” _leads to hate._

You can almost feel the tension in the room, all the eyes looking you, judging you, deciding whether or not to believe you. The air turns heavy, and you’re starting to have problems breathing when a voice cuts the silence

“well, that sure is a _wicked_ story, huh?”

The tension disappears and the silence is filled with groans (“SANS, PLEASE!”). You turn to look at the skeleton and he winks an eye socket at you, making you smile softly. You feel like you have, somehow, won a valuable ally in him.

“Alright, bed’s time everybody! I don’t know how it works for you, guys, but _I_ need to get some sleep.” You stand up, putting the tea cups in the sink and promising yourself to clean them tomorrow.

It’s almost midnight and the monsters are starting to feel the effects of having being walking for six hours nonstop. You feel really glad this house was so close to the mountain that the previous owner practically paid you to take it; it had enough space for all your unexpected guests.

“There’s a guests’ room with a double bed upstairs, the couch can become a bed, there’s my bed and I’m sure Toriel and Frisk can fit in Max’s bed without problems-”

Frisk pulls your sleeve and starts signaling quickly, suddenly remembering something.

_‘Where’s Max?’_

You smile innocently “Oh, well, you see,” You start speaking going upstairs, followed by the monsters “There was this boy who suddenly disappeared, and people started talking about how it could be a kidnapper and, well, I got _really_ worried; so I send him to spend a time with my parents until everything settled.” Frisk looks at the ground, browns furrowed, and you give them a pat on the head “Don’t worry, kid, I go pick him up on Sunday.” You give him a big smile, the grinning kind that you can’t show in the classroom “He’s gonna be pretty excited to know you’re back.”

Frisk smiles, and you can’t help thinking that that is the way things should always be, this kid being safe and happy.

“Well, you can pretty much divide the rooms as you want, I’ll just take some clothes from my room.” You said, opening your bedroom door. After getting a pajama (or what’s the same, some of your old clothes) and new clothes for tomorrow (because you were _not_ using your teacher uniform one more day), you stepped out again “My bedroom, Max’s bedroom, guests’ bedroom and bathroom. Showers in the morning are no problem; showers in the night are not recommended. I’m going to sleep in the library —big door at the end of the hall— if someone needs me.”

You give them a reassuring smile before entering the bathroom. The sound of muffled voices comes from the other side of the door while you change clothes, the monsters are discussing where to sleep and you believe Asgore is the one who offers to sleep downstairs (looks like you’re gonna have a king sleeping in your couch). You wait until the last pair of feet has gone to their room to step out of the bathroom.

A tall armored skeleton blocks your path.

“Uh…” Shit, what was his name?

“HUMAN.” His voice is so loud that you’re scared people in the town (a fifteen minutes’ walk from here) might have heard it.

“… yes?”

He shuffles a little and you see a soft orange tint in his cheekbones. More magic blush? “DO YOU HAVE ANY STORYBOOKS?”

Well… that’s unexpected.

“… story… books?”

“YES. LIKE THE FLUFFY BUNNY.” He’s at least a head and a half taller than you, wears armor, and undoubtedly looked _way_ scarier before he opened his mouth. Gosh, he sounds like one of your students…

 “Well, I have Max’s storybooks, if you don’t mind them not being Underground’s stories-”

He clasps his hands around yours and you practically jump back from the surprise. “I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WOULD BE GLAD TO HEAR SOME OF YOUR HUMAN TALES BEFORE GOING TO BED!” Ok, maybe he was a little louder than your students…

But still “Sure thing, sweetheart” You smile warmly at him, memories of Max running behind you with a big storybook in his hands, asking for another tale to be read “C’mon, let’s choose one.” Papyrus clasps his hands excited and follows behind you to the library with stars in his eyes, a smile so big it’s about to jump out of his face.

Gods, he’s a baby; a very big, very loud baby, but a baby in the end.

He starts searching through the books as soon as you point the “kids section” of the library, the last thing you want him to found is your erotic literature books (or worse, your old fanfiction). He has just discarded half of the books when someone appears behind you on the door.

“you ready, bro?” Sans’s voice startles you, making you jump a little. First Papyrus and now him, you have to be really tired if you’re not feeling all that magic in front of your nose.

“BROTHER! THE WITCH HUMAN HAS AN AMPLE COLLECTION OF STORYBOOKS! I’M AFRAID I CAN NOT CHOOSE.” Papyrus sounds so profusely distressed that you feel slightly bad for him.

“You can take all the books you want, honey, don’t worry” You give him a kind smile and he beams back at you, quickly taking a stack of books under his arm and running out of the room.

 _Precious cinnamon roll_.

Sans turns to look at you after his brother opened your bedroom door and entered (so they were going to be the ones sleeping there…) “thanks for letting papyrus take more than one, you can _tell_ how much he likes _tales_ ” Another impossible wink.

You can’t help the smile. Ah, such a nice big brother… “It’s no problem; Max does the same when he gets excited.” Thinking about him makes you smile, he surely is having fun being pampered by your parents.  _Your mom must me drowning him in cookies..._

“kid mentioned that name before” He looks at you with a lazy, friendly smile “your son?”

You make an affirmation sound, your smile growing a little “Turned four last month, my mother gave him his first charm and my father made him a dreamcatcher with enchanted feathers, he was ecstatic”

Sans chuckles, standing from the wall and making his way towards your bedroom. You weigh the option for a while, before following behind him. It had been a long week and, even when you knew he was safe, you couldn’t help missing your child, missing the bedtime stories.

“is there a problem?” Sans asks when he sees you standing in the doorframe.

Papyrus is looking at you, comfortably tucked on your bed, eyes still shining with little stars. You shake your head, chuckling softly “Just felt like hearing a bedtime story.” You can see his eyes shine brighter, filled with excitement. Sans shrugs, but his smile doesn’t seem to flatter.

Good, you’re not stepping any line.

Sans gets himself comfortable and takes the first book, you smile, recognizing the worn out cover of The Cat in the Hat, one of Max’s favorites (it was the first thing you asked your mother for when you got pregnant, that not all your kid’s storybooks were made by witches. She snickered, but bought you every Dr. Seuss book nonetheless). You were about to suggest turning the bedside table lamp on, thinking under the assumption that monster eyes weren’t all that better than human eyes, but found yourself surprised when a sudden blue light appeared out of nowhere, lightening the room. Looking for the source, you noticed a blue flame coming out of Sans right eye socket.

_Of course, magic._

“the sun did not shine.

it was too wet to play.

so we sat in the house

all that cold, cold, wet day”

Sans voice was deep (not absurdly, but it was a clearly masculine voice) and with the soft tone, typical of someone telling a bedtime story, it kindly lulled you to sleep. It remembered you a little of your father, softly narrating you the ancient legends of the forest when you were little.  _A nice voice..._

“I sat there with Sally.

We sat there, we two.

And I said, ‘How I wish

We had something to do!’”

Sans turns to look at you surprised, while you slowly make your way to the bed. It has been a crazy week, your son is away, there was a missing child, the barrier fell, a found child with a monster exploration party, complicated petitions, a group of monsters had dinner in your house, their king is sleeping in your couch…

You don’t know how exactly you’re so calm after it all (maybe you’re still in shock, maybe that concussion killed something important in your brain), but right now, looking at a pair of skeleton brothers cuddling in your bed while reading a Dr. Seuss story, you feel completely at ease. You wished Max was here too, enjoying this once in a lifetime experience, being as excited about this whole day as Papyrus was about the books.

Maybe is because you have been working with little kids the past year and you’ve gotten used to it, maybe is motherly instinct triggered by Papyrus innocence, maybe you just miss your child. Whatever the reason why you do it is, you have zero problems to scoop yourself closer to the skeleton brothers and take turns to read the book with Sans.

Papyrus falls asleep before the end, and you, being already an expert in this, get away from the bed without making a noise. You take the stack of books in your arms without trouble, and catch Sans eyes just before exiting the room. “thank you”, say his eyes, and your smile mutters a “You’re welcome” while you slowly push the door closed.

Putting the books in the shelf and getting comfortable in the little loveseat of the library, you glance through the window to Mt. Ebott.

_So, monsters, uh?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big Brother!Sans gets along well with Mom!Reader and they're cute while reading to our favorite cinnamon roll...
> 
> I want to thank everyone for leaving kudos and those lovely comments, I'll love to answer them in the comments section, but I feel it would get spammy ;w;
> 
> So, I'll use my knowledge from ff.net
> 
> Acidic: I think that, more than having a thing for single mothers, Sans is just not scared them (I follow the common head canon of Sans raising Papyrus, so I just think it wouldn't make sense if he did, he's basically a single mother xD). But I do believe he has a weak spot for the motherly kind :B
> 
> InfrequentlyBlue: Flustered Sans! <3 I'm going to talk more about it in chapter 8 (chapter 8... =w=) but witches magic being no one favorite kind of magic is going to be a constant. I love the picture of Reader magically cooking while arguing with someone, I'll try to use when I get to the more "daily life" parts of the story :3
> 
> Blupo: Yessss, I like better the idea that humans actually believe in monsters in some kind of mythical way (I have the theory that in some parts of the underworld, far away from the mountain, monsters do the same. It's been 2000 years, humans must be things that just appear in legends for them). I'm really glad you think my english isn't bad, it makes me a little anxious to write in a language that's not spanish, but I like english fandoms more~ ;w;
> 
> I would love to know what kind of stuff do you want to see reader make with her magic. I have like, 20 tabs about magic rituals and spells and one of a tumblr literary called "JustBadPuns" (I'm a responsible writes studying for her fic, yes!)


	5. A Heart To Sternum Talk

When you go downstairs the next morning, you find the King of Monsters sleeping in your couch with one of your warmest blankets covering him. You wonder whether or not to wake him up, but decide not to do it until you have had some coffee. This is going to be one hell of a day.

Half an hour later it’s already nine and there’s light enough not to trip over everything. Frisk and Toriel are the firsts to wake up, walking in the kitchen freshly showered while you take a zip of you coffee (you can’t really handle that much caffeine, and bitter stuff isn’t your favorite, but sometimes you just know you’ll _need_ a coffee) and offer to do them some breakfast even when Toriel insists in doing it herself (“You’re still my guests, don’t worry”).

Frisk runs around you asking for pancakes and you can see the worry in her eyes for them being so close to you, and when you move a finger to get a plate of the shelf she quickly stands and hands it to you. You’re not surprised, even when Sans said Toriel “thrusted you” and “liked you” the fact that witch magic (specially _your_ magic, sadly) looked deeply dangerous was a reality. As a mother, you would be worried too if your child ran around a lightning storm of magic.

A little after that, Papyrus comes downstairs too, his steps as loud as his voice waking up Asgore in the process (“I AM TRULY SORRY, YOUR MAJESTY!” “It’s alright; it’s good to see you’re so full of energy in the morning”). Alphys, who you just notice you haven’t heard talk _at all_ , and Undyne come afterwards, and you found yourself making French toasts and pancakes for an army (and you’re glad that Max’s father pays the food expenses, because there’s no way in hell your teacher salary can feed all those mouths).

In the middle of breakfast you decide that walking in plain daylight with a bunch of monsters isn’t that good of an idea, and instead send a message to the station (a letter in the form of an origami bird, embed with magic), you also take the opportunity to send another one to your mother, telling her about your plans to pick up Max tomorrow (“It would be easier if you just picked up the phone, mom” “That thing needs a charger! Does magic needs chargers? No!” _Sigh_ …).

An hour later you receive an answer from the guard (you were right, his name was Edmund) telling you he would talk with the Circle and drop by your house in the afternoon, and another from your mother, saying Max can’t wait to see you. Alphys and Undyne wish to inspect the fallen barrier, so you get them some protection charms before handing them a map (“These will keep you hidden but they _won’t_ make you invisible, so try sticking close to the mountain, ‘k?”), Asgore looks utterly delighted by your little garden (“There’s some ‘witch stuff’ that doesn’t grow in this mountain”) and Papyrus wins your heart when he offers to help cleaning the dishes (“Such a good boy, your brother doesn’t deserve you”). Toriel insists in you resting after all you’ve done for them (and you try not to think she does it just to stop you from using magic) and Frisk pulls you to the couch (that’s still a bed) in the living room.

The kid sits there, smiling happily and playing with their little feet. You can’t help your own smile.

“Well, haven’t this week just been a rollercoaster?” Frisk signs and you let out a chuckle. “Yeah, you sure had one heck of an adventure.” They nod effusively and you look at the kitchen door, where Papyrus and Toriel are cleaning the dishes “So, new mom?” Frisk nods, smiling to the point of blushing and shining like you have never seen them do before, _but still…_ “Are you sure? It’s just been a week.” Frisk nods again, quickly listing all of Toriel’s good points. You let out a chuckle “Okay, okay. I just wanted to be sure, no need to get mad, geez.”

They laugh too, and it puts you at ease. You feel kind of uncomfortable around Toriel, but if Frisk likes her so much maybe you just need to warm up to her, understand each other better (you must admit that you _aren’t_ being that rational either). Besides, it’s not like she has stopped Frisk from getting near you, that’s a lot more than what other mothers would do.

You take a look to the stairs and make a signal with your head. “He’s not coming down or what?”

‘ _Sans’s doesn’t like mornings._ ’

Oh, so Toriel is “ _Mom_ ”, but Sans is just “ _Sans_ ”. Better make a note on that.

“And he’s just going to skip breakfast?” The question is pointy, but your voice says that it isn’t that big of a deal. You aren’t really a morning person either.

‘ _Probably_.’

From inside the kitchen you can hear Papyrus voice (not like you wouldn’t be able to hear it from Australia) “WITCH HUMAN, DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT. SANS IS A LAZYBONES. HE HAS NEVER BEEN UP EARLY!” _Sounds like a beautiful life_ “BESIDES, YOUR BED WAS TRULY COMFORTABLE, IT WAS ALMOST AS GOOD AS MY BED!”

You snicker “Good to know you guys liked it.”

“AND YOUR STORYTELLING ABILITIES WERE GREAT! ALMOST AS GREAT AS ME, THE GREAT PAPYRUS!”

You have had kids like him before, and know that hearing them say something like that is the maximum praise “Whenever you want, sweetie.” Papyrus happiness is almost palpable, and you share a little smile with Frisk before standing up “Anyway, I need some stuff from my room, so I’ll try to wake him up. If I’m not here in half an hour call the police.”

* * *

 

Just like Papyrus said, Sans is still asleep. Curled in your blankets, a lazy smile on his face and completely empty eye sockets. You notice just now that you don’t find this deeply disturbing and blame it on the fact that you’re actually used to see empty skulls (even when Sans skull looks nothing like a normal human skull). It’s a witch thing.

As quiet and carefully as you could, you went through your stuff, looking for the only thing you needed. Now, it wasn’t in its usual place, and it wasn’t with the umbrellas, where was it?

“looking for something?”

 “Yeah...” His voice startles you, but you try to hide it “Have you seen a big, brown reddish staff? I kinda need it.”

You hear the sound of the bedsheets shifting and a pair of boney feet making contact with the wooden floor “gonna do a magic trick?” His voice is relaxed, but there’s something in it that makes you feel like he’s not really comfortable with the idea.

_If magic didn’t put people so on edge you could just make it appear in your hands, but whatever…_

“Yup!” Ah! There it is, resting against the bookshelf “Gonna review some stuff while waiting for the guard to come” You turn to give him a reassuring smile. He has magic too, so maybe he can understand that not every magic is dangerous, even when yours looks kinda scary “Guard’s coming in some point of the afternoon, by the way, so it would be good if you got up eventually.” The charms and enchantments clash when you pick up the staff; it’s like hearing your years of magic training jingle “You can take a shower if you want, looks like the kid and your girlfriend took one too”

Sans face turns deep blue in .5 seconds and you can’t hold the snort. He getting so flustered… it’s plainly adorable. You wish someone liked you so much, that the only mention of being together will make them put that face, it must feel nice.

“uh, kid,” _Kid?_ “about that whole g-girlfriend thing with tori…”

Oh, no. You know that tone, is the “you have crossed a complicated line” tone. Back down; back down before this starts going south.

“I-I’m sorry. Was it a secret?” Keep your ground, don’t panic “I haven’t said anything in front of the others, but I didn’t think it would be that complicated...” Deep breathes, deep breathes “I’m sorry if this sounds intrusive, but is it because of Asgore? Or Frisk? If is about telling Frisk I’m sure I can-”

“we’re not together.” Sans practically glows blue.

Silence.

“But…”

Confusion.

“But you…”

Realization.

“Oh… Oooooooooooooooh! I fucked up.”

* * *

You’re not sure how this happened (and Sans looks like he doesn’t get it either), you just read too much into a situation and now you’re having a heart to heart (heart to sternum?) talk with a skeleton sitting on your bed. You’re totally going to rule “Never have I ever”.

Sans explained you more or less the situation, Asgore and Toriel’s “divorce” (and the fact that they are, indeed, the King and Queen of the legend), their situation in the Underground, Frisk place in this whole thing. You’re used to confusing conversations and crazy mothers talking a lot, so you could more or less get everything he said.

“So… human child souls?”

Sans nods, a blue light flicking in his right eye.

You let out a halfhearted laugh “Well, can’t say I didn’t know ancient magic was pretty metal, but…” Another laugh, this time more nervous “That’s, uh…” The face of your son comes to your mind (his bright eyes while he smiles...), you cough a little “That’s pretty heavy... makes the reason of my divorce sound like a walk in the park, though it pretty much _was_ a walk in the park” You try to smile at him, but Sans is glaring at the floor.

“tori understands that asgore did it for us monsters, but that doesn’t mean she approves it. either way she…”

“She can’t completely hate him?” Sans nods and you feel kind of bad for him, forgetting someone after such a messy break up is always complicated “And you haven’t told her anything about how you feel?”

“a lot has happened this days, we’re finally free, she’s got a new child, and i’m not the easiest person to deal with; didn’t wanted to overwhelm her in such an important moment.” Sans tries to avoid your gaze and you let him do it, making sure to give him enough space “it didn’t felt right.”

Slowly and tentatively you put a hand in his shoulder, when he doesn’t flinch or move away from your touch, you star to carefully caress his back, trying to give him some reassurance.

_“It didn’t felt right”_

How many times have you heard someone say that “it didn’t felt right” telling someone else they loved them and it didn’t sounded like they were blaming the other person? Sans says “it didn’t felt right” and you have no doubt that he _knows_ this is his decision and only his.

Gods, is the Underground full of marshmallow monsters or is that just a skeleton thing? Is everyone down there so incredibly sensible? You wished people up here were like that.

“It’s okay, Toriel is a strong woman” You try to be as reassuring as possible, keeping enough distance to not be invasive, but not breaking contact “She just needs time to sort things out, process the situation. Breaking up isn’t always that simple.”

“yeah, i know…” Sans nods and you just know he really understands.

That makes you smile, if everyone understood that sometimes people just needed some time and space to get to terms with themselves your work as a teacher would be way easier. You also feel somehow relaxed by the fact that Sans is worried for Toriel’s feelings and not the fact that she is a divorced woman with a child, many guys had ran away from you the second you told them you were a single mother (with was usually when you said you got to go home early from the party because your mother was watching over your son) and it was always a pleasure to meet one that didn’t acted like you were the plague.

It felt... good, really good.

_Now, let’s get rid of that sad face._

“Sometimes people just need a lot of time, a _ton_ of time…”

Something shines inside Sans’s eyes, a small smile creeping on his face.

“A skele _ton_ of time?”

You snort and give him a pat on the back (more friendlily, less teacher/mother like). Sans smiles wider, starting to crack jokes like he got paid for it, and, for a moment, you find yourself asking if this whole jokester thing is really him or just a way to hide his problems.

You decide to ask some other time, when it doesn’t feel like he might break if you do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to do this, I really wanted to wait until the weekend and be a good Safire, but I got so excited after reaching 20 000 words that I couldn't help it ;w;  
> Chapter 11 is done, there's a lot more Witchcraft for a while, and a surprise update won't kill anyone... right?


	6. An old, tired king

You didn’t know how much time passed (or how many bad jokes you heard), but you were rolling on the floor laughing until the point of choking, Sans’ stupid grin almost shining while he saw you.

“Stop it, go-god dammit!” You tried to control your breathing, glaring at him without much effect due to your poor state “What’s with that shit-eating grin, you asshole?”

Sans just smiled wider, he found out that, after making you laugh enough, you dropped your good-teacher act and started behaving more like a normal woman with an awful vocabulary “c’mon, don’t be so _stern_ um, i’m just trying to be _humerus_ here”

You snort, not sure if you want or not to punch him. You (and all the other monsters) spent yesterday’s dinner hearing him tell every skeleton joke in the world, making you start to develop a love/hate relationship with them “Another skeleton pun and I swear to the Gods you’re _not_ going _tibia_ okay.”

His eyes shone like stars after that “i’m sorry to tell you this, but you can’t skelerun from my skelepuns”

You try to choke down your laughter while Sans’ infuriating smile widens (if that is possible anymore). Ok, maybe you liked his stupid skeleton jokes, but that didn’t change the fact that you wanted to punch him in the face.

“a skeleton walks in a bar and-”

“WITCH HUMAN! SANS! THE GUARD HUMAN IS HERE!” _Thank goodness…_

“Whoops! Gotta go!” You rose to your feet so fast that the world spun, and picked up your staff before exiting the room with big, quick steps, leaving Sans chuckling alone behind.

He didn’t understood quite well what was happening, he met you yesterday, threw a bone at your head, talked to you about his love life and made you cry from laughter, it didn’t make sense. But, to be honest, this last week (this long, _long_ week) didn’t make sense, it had been surreal and tiring (specially tiring). And now he felt anxious, they got out of the Underground (again), Chara disappeared, the kid promised no more Resets (and maybe that was what had him more excited, _no more Resets_ ). He was worried and hyped, and you… well, you were a really good listener, you gave him space, but made him feel accompanied, you didn’t pressed him to talk or made him feel like telling you his problems would be a burden, you felt…

… reliable.

Of course, he didn’t trust you at the beginning, he could feel you were hiding something (and the last thing he needed was another psychotic human nearby), but after Asgore’s reaction (and we’re talking about a man that could offer tea to a burglar and ask them is there was anything he could do for them) and that big fight to decide if they should or shouldn’t carry _your unconscious body out of the forest_ , well, he couldn’t really blame you. For how the kid talked, humans didn’t know you were a witch, and, based on the good work you did keeping your cool with them, hiding it looked like your main worry when meeting someone. He could understand that feeling(to say the truth, the only reason he knew you were hiding something was because you looked _awfully familiar_ to him), the desperation to keep it hidden (there had been a couple of timelines where Papyrus almost got to know, where he almost broke down and said it, the anxiousness still hasn’t leave his chest), even if at the beginning he felt threatened by it .

Besides, and this was an important point, Papyrus really took a liking on you after last night.

Maybe it was that you too knew how it felt to keep a complicated secret, or how much you remembered him of Toriel (or the magic sparkling in your Soul, which he just found out was constantly making a soothing, static sound). Sans didn’t know, but when he went downstairs to found all the faces he had been lying about “being fine”, he felt truly at ease finding yours, smiling reassuringly.

* * *

“They WHAT?!”

Alphys and Papyrus are holding Undyne back while a very terrified Guard Edmund hides under your back. You don’t really care about being used as a human shield; you just don’t want blood in your carpet, or anywhere in your house.

“’We do-don’t wish to interact with monsters anymore.’” He stuttered, body trembling and fingers digging nervous in your shoulder “’Th-the Magic Society is disappearing, w-we need to take care of our own kind, a-and helping mo-mo-monsters will just put us in danger’, tha-that’s what the High Circle of Magic said…”

“WELL YOU CAN TELL THEM TO-”

“That’s enough, Undyne.” Asgore’s voice cuts the discussion like a knife and surprises you with the ease that it puts Undyne rage under control. The King looks at the messenger (and he looks nothing like the nice old man praising your flowers this morning) “Thank you for coming to deliver this message in person, we’re sorry to make you lose your time. Please send my gratitude to the Circle, and my greetings, I would be glad to meet them in person one day, after this situation has been sorted”

Edmund says the most trembling “Yes, your Majesty” ever and you accompany him to the door, assuring him that Undyne won’t try anything. After he’s sure he’s safe and the door is closed, you count to ten in your head. Then all hell breaks loose.

“How DARE they say something like THAT?!”

“U-Undyne, p-please…”

“I must have expected this to happen…”

“IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT, YOUR MAJESTY!”

“What are we going to do now...”

“hey, don’t worry, tori, i’m sure we’ll _cranium_ something, it’s going _tibia_ okay”

There’s a lot of voices in your living room, some angry, some worried, some trying not to break down, but there’s one that catches you attention over them all.

“Miss Fairy?”

Frisk looks at you with a little worried frown and you need to take a deep breathe to not let them notice how much their heartbroken expression affects you. Teacher Mode On.

“Yes, Frisk?”

The kid lifts their hands to move their sleeves back ‘ _Are they really not going to help?_ ’

You take another deep breathe, lowering yourself to be at their eye level. You were expecting for this to happen, helping the monsters is a risky move, that’s why _you_ don’t want to do it, but the Circle…

You didn’t expect the Circle to have a negative answer since the beginning.

“I-I don’t know, sweetheart, maybe they’re just surprised, I mean, it sure is a big new!” You catch how the monsters have stopped fighting to hear you. _Great…_ “Maybe… maybe we should give them some time, try again tomorrow…”

Frisk nods, still not completely convinced, and turns to walk towards Toriel. When you get up, you get a perfect picture of all the monsters standing in your living room, their unspoken emotions making the air heavy. They look so… lost, even a little scared.

“I, uh,” You cough, unable to handle this amount of tension “I gotta go, do some witch stuff outside, uhm, what if we, uh,” You swallow, mouth feeling suddenly dry “What if we drop it for today? We can try again tomorrow, send a better argument, try to set a meeting…”

Asgore nods solemnly, and you try to ease the ambient telling Frisk and Papyrus that they can go play with Max’s toys, Papyrus practically shines when you tell him that yes, Max indeed has a rather large collection of action figures, and Sans follows the two of them upstairs to “make sure they don’t verte _break_ anything”. Alphys asks if you, by any chance, have anime or manga here, and you try not to blush while telling her that there’s a big box in the library covered by a blanket, she beams you a smile before holding Undyne’s hand and going upstairs. Toriel offers to make an early dinner (after all, everyone was so worried about the meeting that lunch was forgotten) and you’re too tired to fight about it anymore, leaving just you and Asgore awkwardly staring at each other in the middle of the living room.

You try not to choke with your tongue “I, uh, ahm-”

“I wanted to apologize for my previous behavior, and to thank you for all your help” Asgore’s voice is deep and soft, but not in the same way as Sans’ voice, Asgore has the voice of a man who has lived a long life and tells stories to little kids while sitting near a bonfire “I didn’t know your kind didn’t wanted to create the barrier”

His words surprise you.

“I haven’t done that much, though…”

He lets out a chuckle, and makes his way towards the garden; you somehow feel like you need to follow him, like you want to do it “You gave us food and shelter even when it would mean to put you in danger” He stops in front of a bed of yellow flowers, looking somewhat nostalgic “You’re trying your best to give us an opportunity up here” How can some look like he can carry the world and he’s about to cry at the same time?

“Warlocks were the ones to put you down there in the first place, and with such a horrible way of breaking the spell; even if they were mercenaries, the Circle just showed to be no better…” What is this thing in your mouth? Why do you get such a bad taste just from thinking about your own kind?

Asgore’s soft voice rumbles through the garden “The decisions of a few shouldn’t be blamed on the whole, that’s a lesson it took me too much time to understand…” And you can feel the weight of those words (every one of them, pilling like stones on your shoulders, making difficult to breathe), the years of pain and regret from a single bad decision made in a rush of anger, the apology that will never be said, because he truly believes he doesn’t deserves to be forgiven “Don’t underestimate your actions, my child, they weigh more than any words that can be said”

You stand there for a while, frozen in place, watching Asgore carefully (almost lovely) caress the petals of a yellow flower, before you finally get some control over your body and start rummaging through the garden, looking for the items for your spell. Asgore’s words don’t leave you while you do it (but you’re pretty sure Asgore’s words won’t leave you your whole life), you feel like you just stepped out of a cold shower and wonder is Sans knew how Asgore feels when he talked with you (if _Toriel_ knows how Asgore feels, if he wants her to know). You try to remember yourself that he cold bloodily killed six human children (and would have done the same with Frisk if other was the turn of events), but maybe it wasn’t as cold bloodily as it sounded. You can imagine him underground, an old, tired king sitting in a lonely throne, wishing, praying, for another child not to come, for his people to stand forever condemned to a life of fake lights if that could mean no one else would have to die.

Worse things have been done for human men in less desperate situations, and you’re sure that no human king has ever sounded as broken as Asgore for killing someone. You remember telling Toriel yesterday that “two thousand years is a long time”, but maybe for Asgore it hasn’t been enough time (and you wonder how much time is necessary to forgive yourself after something like that).

Even when you try to focus solely in picking up herbs, you can’t stop the couple of tears that roll down your cheeks or the sudden necessity to hug your child.

You choke down a sob, crying in silence.


	7. He looked like a kid when it came to stars

You were glad Asgore respected your space while you were crying, especially because you were crying from second hand sadness. None of you said a thing after that, you just got your herbs and headed inside the house to your only true safe place: the basement.

Like many other witches and warlocks after the hunts started, you kept all the stuff that could get you in problems on the basement. All the black magic books, ritual implements and powerful charms where there; you had seals painted in the walls and crystals and stones imbued with magic lying everywhere. The whole room reeked magic and, as your people knows very well, magic attracts magic, so whenever you stepped in, your magic jumped and twisted, sending sparks everywhere, pleading to be used. The basement was a powerful room, sealed from the outside to avoid damaging others and filling you with energy the moment the door opened. Max had been there a couple of times, but he knew it was prohibited for him to enter without your supervision (who knew what that amount of wild, desperate magic could do to a child).

For you, on the other hand, it was perfect. All that energy running wild, from you to the room, from the room to you, it felt refreshing and even relaxing, to be able to let your power rummage the outside without fear.

Feeling renewed and temporary stable, you decided to put hands on the matter and start working on your little project. It was supposed to be a “good luck” kind of gift to the monsters, a farewell before they started their journey with the Circle. But now it looked like it would be just a plain “good bye”. It broke your heart a little, for them to have to go back underground empty handed.

_No, magic shouldn’t be done with dark feelings in the soul. It’s dangerous._

_Smile, this is a gift of happiness._

* * *

Frisk and Papyrus were having the time of their lives, Max had at least two dozens of action figures (all of them gifts from people who weren’t your parents) and a big box with handmade dolls (all of them made by family members and accepted after a deep analysis to make sure the was no voodoo), without counting all the other toys (magic kids usually spent a lot of time indoors, entertaining themselves with their own magic, so you made sure Max had enough stuff in his room to practice with). Sans, on the other hand, laid down on Max’s bed, looking the glowing stars glued to the ceiling. He didn’t lied to you; he truly liked it more out here than down there, even with the cloudy weather, but…

He sighed, closing his eyes.

He really was looking forward to see some stars.

He tried to, after Papyrus fell asleep and you went to the library. He stood up carefully and, as quietly as possible, opened a window to take a look outside. He couldn’t help feeling down after finding out that, just like you said, the sky was a single shade of dark blue, not a single light on sight. It _was_ kind of depressing.

But being in Max’s room made him somehow smile, it looked like you had painted the walls and ceiling to resemble the night sky, a lot of dark blue and little white and yellow points here and there. Looking around he noticed that, actually, everything had some kind of space-themed pattern, there even was a little blue bookshelf decorated with moons and suns. He stood up to inspect some of the books while thinking about some of the old textbooks he had read about your kind. If his memory wasn’t tricking him (which wouldn’t be a surprise, taking in consideration he re-lived the same week at least a hundred times), witches and warlocks adored the celestial beings (the sun, moon and stars) and held rituals in their names. They believed those had some kind of power that feed their magic, or something along those lines, there was a lot of stuff he didn’t understood quite well.

Sorting through some of the titles (which were more or less science related books for little kids and magic stuff) he paused when he found a rather big book with leather cover called “A map of the sky” by an unknown author. Taking it in his hands and opening it with curiosity he discovered that it was just a collection of star maps and little bits of information here and there about the legends behind the constellations or the curiosities about specific stars and galaxies. There were big pictures and close ups to get a better image of the constellations, there was a page about the stars life cycle and what a black hole was and some notes about magic and the stars and how everything was connected. Somethings were printed, some other made by hand, some looked new, and some looked quite old.

He didn’t moved while Papyrus and Frisk threw dolls at each other, too concentrated to think in anything else than that book and the things that this new sky had yet to show him.

He was so focused that he almost didn’t felt when you poked his shoulder, telling him that dinner was ready (there’s no need to say that he jumped and blushed embarrassed, stuttering something that could have been a “thank you” or Klingon).

“Ah!” You said slightly surprised after catching a glimpse of the old book from behind his skull “That one was from my great grandfather. Glad to know you’re enjoying it”

Sans watched you leave the room in silence, his Soul jumping in his chest, ecstatic to know more about the world up here.

* * *

All the way through dinner (that luckily was just slightly less loud than yesterday) you couldn’t help to look at Sans making Toriel laugh and drinking ketchup, remembering his shiny eyes while looking your family’s old scrap book (it was a tradition in your family to pass the book from parent to child and add new content about the stars as the generations moved), the only times when you looked someone so excited about it was when Max had it in his hands, the kid loved stars.

And it looked like Sans did too.

You thought about your gift to the monsters and unconsciously touched your pocket. You were planning to use it before going to sleep, so it would last until tomorrow’s afternoon, but maybe if you used it now and put a little more magic in it…

Excusing yourself you made your way to the bathroom and silently prayed no one would walk close enough to catch the smell of burning herbs.

* * *

“Need another bedtime story?” You ask while drying your hair with a towel.

Sans stops looking through the books to turn towards you, the small magic blush in his cheekbones makes you bite your lip to hold a snicker, he looks like a kid found with the hand in the cookie jar. _It’s awfully cute._

“no, uh, paps” _Paps_? Can this get any cuter? “wanted to read the same one, since we didn’t finish, and i, uh…”

You cross the room in a couple of steps and crouch in front of the ‘kids’ section’, quickly finding ‘The Cat in the Hat’ and handing it to Sans “Need a reading partner?”

He shuffles, murmuring something “yeah, thanks… but i, uh, i actually wanted to ask you to, uhm, borrow the book i was reading earlier…”

You just smile, nodding before leaving the room and Sans wants to hit his skull against a wall because _fuck_ , you look at him like… someone (something?) did when he helped in the lab and he can’t help feeling a little kid again. It has been so long since he started being the “adult”, he practically raised Papyrus alone (or at least that what he thinks, trying to remember anything before the accident is like seeing the world through a broken mirror and a cellphone with bad signal), and even now that Papyrus wasn’t an actual kid anymore, he couldn’t bring himself to stop acting like the big brother, it’s what he had always done (and after all those genocide timelines, it’s what he wants to always do).

And then you appeared.

“Here you go, sweetie.”

And made him feel like the world wasn’t going to burn the second he stopped worrying.

“Now let’s go read that book.” You smile and Sans feels his shoulders lighter than he had felt them in years.

Was that how relying on someone felt?

* * *

This time Papyrus held on until the end of the book and you tucked him tightly in your old red blanket, Sans is outside the bedroom, already reading your book.

“Some light reading before bed?” He nods, furrowing his brow (you don’t question it anymore) while looking closely a little patch wrote in your grandmother’s elegant but unreadable calligraphy “Wanna drink something while you’re at it? It’s too late for coffee, but I have some tea, promise to not put witch stuff in it!”

He chuckles, without taking his eyes from the book “sounds _tea_ rrific.”

You snort, giving him a light slap on the shoulder “Tearrific? _Really?_ ”

“i have to save the _magical jokes_ for the right moment.” He gives you something that looks like a grin (if a skull could grin, of course) and stands from the door, making his way down stairs.

“Please tell me I’m not gonna spend the rest of my evening hearing witch puns.” You say in a whisper, walking quietly through the living room to don’t wake up Asgore.

“that sounds like a _wicked_ _idea_ , i wonder _witch one_ i should start with.”

You stop looking for a pair of cups and turn to glare at him, but he’s all smiles, eyes shining mischievously, eyebrows (eyebones?) rising in an expectant gesture. You just sigh and return to look in the shelf, trying to hide the little smile in your face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cut this one in half, this is the shortest half :3  
> I'm kinda hyped for the next one, so... I'm gonna update it as soon as I finish the chapter I'm writting now  
> Thanks for all your love! You make me happy! ;w;


	8. What’s wrong with Ursa Major?

“Okay, so, there was this time when I was like, what, fifteen?, and this idiot totally two-timed my best friend, alright?” In some point of the ‘punversation’ one of the jokes made you remember an old high school story and you just started going on and on about what an irresponsible witch you were and how much you enjoyed it “So, she was really down, I was totally mad, and I said ‘You know what? Fuck that guy!’” Sans notices that you move your hands a lot while talking, and your voice sounds higher when you’re excited, he doesn’t remember that happening in your previous conversations “So I went to my house that day, baked some cookies, put some witch stuff in them, and just let them in a box near the place he and his friends used to smoke weed” Your eyes shine, a mischievous smile on your face “Now, imagine this, midday, a cafeteria full of high schoolers and six idiots running inside, screaming about feeling their dicks shrinking” You both laugh, feeling glad that the house looked to be sound proof, because otherwise you would wake everyone up “I-I’m sure I ruined someone’s life that day.” You wipe a little tear on the corner of your eye, remembering it was way better that hearing it.

“you were awful.”

“I was a bitch.” You say smiling.

“wouldn’t you mean a _witch_?” He gives you a wink and you just keep laughing.

You don’t remember the last time you talked so much to someone, you usually held the place of the listener. But Sans is smiling, book closed and tea cup forgotten, looking at you, all his attention centered in what you’re saying, and that makes you happy. You had forgotten how it felt to talk about yourself, to be the one being listened.

You were so focused on the conversation that you almost forgot why you brought Sans here in the first place.

_Almost_ “Oh, fuck!” _Okay, not almost_ “I totally forgot! C’mere!”

You take Sans’ arm, rushing outside, and he makes a signal with his hand, the old book follows behind you shining a light blue (and you feel a pang of jealousy of how pretty and non-dangerous his magic looks). You pull him to a side of the garden, making some plants aside and using the vines growing there as a ladder “Is easier to climb from my room, but I don’t want to wake Paps up.” Sans looks at you with confusion and even a little of worry, you scoff “C’mon, lazybones, I swear it’s worth it!”

Sans looks at you, looks at the vines, and looks at you again before sighing and teleporting to the roof. You glare at him once you get up “Space magic is dangerous, you shouldn’t use it every time you don’t want to move, you know?” Then unhook your staff from your belt.

Sans shrugs “it’s easier.” You send him one of your ‘teacher’s glares’ and he tries his best not to feel like he’s being grounded “anyway, why is it worth i’m up here?”

You frown for a little more, before smiling and sitting in the middle of the roof, patting the space next to you “Just a little something I wanted to show you.” Sans takes a seat beside you, holding the book tightly when he notices you holding up the staff. He seems anxious.

_Kids love magic, adults fear it._

You shake your head, trying not to panic; this is the first time ever you will clearly use magic in front of a non-magic user. Sure, he is a monster; a being made of magic, but monster magic and witch magic have always been two completely different things. Monster magic came from the Soul, it was the core of a monster, even if they couldn’t use it; a monster could not exist without magic. Witch magic, on the other hand, rummaged _around_ the Soul, it used rituals and spells and even when you used it without previous preparations you needed to train to control it, it was wild energy running like lightning all-around you. A monster that can’t control their magic is a monster that can’t use magic, a witch that can’t control their magic is a time bomb.

That’s why you study, why you train; to not hurt others.

To be able to use your magic to bring happiness.

Like today.

You hold the staff over your head, pointing at a place between the clouds, saying the spell loud and clear.

“ _Clouds above the world, so far,_

_I now call to do my will,_

_Move so I can see the sky_

_That doesn't stand still_

_Earth, wind fire and sea,_

_As I say, so it will be._ ”

You can feel Sans confused eyes on you when the magic starts running through the staff, soft red spirals sparkling against the dark sky, the energy itching in your fingertips. When the winter wind blows, it carries the smell of the summer herbs you burned earlier, accepting your offer.

When you turn to look at him, Sans’ face shines, and it isn’t just because of the moonlight. He turns to you, eyes wide as the moon.

“how…”

You cover your mouth, giggling nervously, you haven’t felt like this since high school “Well, spells are actually, like, weird poetry witches and warlocks say to focus, like, ‘I need to do this, so I’m going to sing about it to don’t forget it’” Nervous chuckle “Like, uh, I’m going to stop talking right now…”

You sat there in silence, awkwardly playing with your staff while Sans just looked the sky. You were starting to have problems with all that silence when he finally spoke.

“it’s beautiful”

That’s it. No pun, no joke, not even a shade of that lazy tone, just two words whispered in the silence of the night; so soft, so low, that it almost was like they came from a dream. You felt like even a breath, a heartbeat, could break the magic of this moment, so you did the only thing you could think of.

You laughed. _Hard_.

A loud, high pitched, uncontrollable laugh with nasty snorts and weird absences of sound every now and then. An awful, totally not lady-like laugh that your aunts would frown upon. A laugh from deep within the soul.

Sans looked at you like you just lost your head and you felt like, yeah, you probably did. You laughed out all your anxiety, insecurities and fears; and ended just laying down in the roof, looking like an idiot to the sky and giggling ever so often. You hear shuffling and the sound of bone scrapping against wood, so you assume Sans is laying besides you. Silence settles once more, and this time you’re the one to break it.

“I always loved the stars, you know?” You sound like a child, looking the universe with big, bright eyes “Mom says it’s a witch thing, we love the space because it reminds us of our own magic, the energy, the mysteries, the infinite questions and their infinite answers” You raise a hand, trying to catch the moon “She says that witches love the unknown, because there’s nothing more thrilling than the knowledge to be discovered.” You turn to look at Sans, the moonlight making you both glow “There’s a saying, something like ‘magic is science we can’t explain’.”

“i can relate to that” Sans’ voice doesn’t sound as mystical as before, but you can still hear how amazed he is “i mean, compared with the crystals in waterfall this sure _feels_ like magic.”

You chuckle, turning to look at the sky again, feeling the energy of the moon in every fiber of your body.

“Want an astrology lesson?”

“wouldn’t mind one”

You let out a small laugh before raising your hands “Okay, so, constellations make like zero sense, alright?” He chuckles and you feel suddenly hyped. _All this moonlight…_ “No, really, it’s like a bunch of guys got tired of playing ‘connect the dots’ and were just like ‘bruh, I don’t know, that kinda looks like a horse’ and everyone else was like ‘yeah, whatever you say, dude’ and made a map of the sky with that” Sans laughs, your smile growing wider “So, taking in consideration the time of year and our position on Earth I think Orion should be… There! Right there! Do you see it?”

Sans’ head quickly turns in the direction you’re pointing “where?”

“There, those three making a line are the belt, then the legs, shoulders and head” You say, pointing everything you mention “He’s the Hunter and one of the only constellations that makes more or less sense.” Sans laughs more and you just keep pointing stars “Then there’s Canis Maior —head, legs and torso— fighting with Taurus —I think those are supposed to be the horns— and we have stuff with less sense like Canis Minor —it’s like, that’s it, it’s a line— and Ursa Maior, like, what the fuck, dude? I see the pot, but where is the bear, that’s not a bear!”

Sans laugh grows as your rant goes on and on, and you think you hear him say something about you founding the constellations un _bear_ able.

It feels good, being in the roof with someone, laughing and talking about the stars. His eyes shine when you start talking about the names, meanings and stories of the stars, it’s a little like being with your students and completely different at the same time. You can curse and be as loud as you want; there isn’t a need to keep appearances, there isn’t even a need to hide your magic. For the first time in your life, you feel truly free.

And then there’s Sans, all smiles, eyes shining like those of a little child, looking at a clear sky full of stars for the first time in his life, the first monster to look at the stars in _two thousand years_. You remember what he said, about this feeling like magic, and you think that yes, this actually _feels_ like magic, being here, watching this happen, it has to be magic. His eyes shine even more than the stars, full of feelings that you can’t even start to name. There’s happiness, curiosity, wondering, excitement, awe and, of course, hope. And that hits you hard.

There’s hope in Sans’ eyes, hope in the stars, in being able to see this sky every night, to see the sun rise and set, to learn more about this aboveground. There’s hope in the future, in humans and monsters.

_“humans are amazing”_ You remember him saying while reading the book earlier _“you look at this figures in the sky and give them names, stories, you bring them to life”_

_Maybe there’s even hope in witches_ , you think, and it makes your heart flutter because, when was the last time _anyone_ had hope in witches?

He turns to look at you and the world stops spinning just so you can completely grasp this moment, his delighted smile, his bright eyes like those of a child and that blue little magic blush.

Maybe there’s even hope in you.

Time freezes for a moment, while the events of the last two days come rushing like an avalanche. You remember Frisk’s happy face asking you to help them, Papyrus’ big smile while looking at the books, Asgore’s deep voice thanking you for a bed and some food, and now Sans’ eyes shining like stars, excited about this new world, this new future, a future where magic can be used to look at the stars, instead of being hidden.

And everything is going to disappear, because you’re too scared to truly help.

_There was a time when you wouldn’t have run away from freedom, what’s keeping you now?_

You think of Max and a future where he won’t need to hide like you did.

You look at Sans once again, his hopeful eyes resuming this past two days (and your long lost dreams) in a heartbeat.

_You’re filled with determination._

* * *

“Hey, James, do me a favor. I, uh, I need you to bring the Circle to my house tomorrow… _today_ ”

“Yeah, yeah, that would be great, thank you…”

“And James… do you think you can do a little detour? I need you to pick Max from my parents’ house; something tells me this is going to be a long day…”

“… of course they’re going to open the door, you’re his father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OnaDacora updated "Would That Make You Happy?" and that, actually, didn't made me happy...  
> Ona why? ;w;  
> *curls in a ball and dies*


	9. Cultural Exchange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friday I said "I can update Witchcraft the Sunday, when I get home from the Game Jam".  
> I've been asleep for 20 hours.  
> ...  
> GAME JAM! *dies*
> 
> Enjoy our skeleton, sinners

You drop the phone, cracking your back after sleeping a second night in the library. You don’t remember falling asleep, let alone going back to the library. Probably Sans teleported you back inside after you fell asleep from laughter, you were too sleepy to be angry with him, and instead put a little silly smile. Gods, the last time you laughed like that (talked like that) you were still in college, and no one carried you to bed since your father. You try to imagine Sans carrying you, long legs hanging from a side while he tries not to drop you, it’s hilarious, and you would laugh more if you weren’t still half asleep.

What time is it? It doesn’t matter, you need a shower; a shower, coffee and to get your shit together before your ex-husband knocks on the door.

It wasn’t like there was anything wrong with James; of course, it was emotionally tiring to see him, but it wasn’t the end of the world. Your divorce, compared with many others, was actually pretty simple. No drama, no crying, no domestic violence, just you growing up and understanding that no one was perfect, slowly but surely falling out of love.

No, James wasn’t half bad. He was complicated to deal with and had some emotional problems that you weren’t going to try solving anymore, but he wasn’t a bad man, he was an awful father and a terrible husband, but he loved Max and not everyone is good with the family life. Sure, he wasn’t the person you believed him to be when you fell in love, but _no one_ was that person, you were nineteen and he was a handsome older man who told you about adventures and ancient magic, you got married that _same year_ and had a son the _next one_ , you weren’t really thinking things through.

You sigh, entering the bathroom more tired than when you woke up.

At least you were still bold enough to ask for a divorce after two years of marriage. What kind of mother would you be if you had showed Max that love _had_ to be forever even if it made you unhappy? Not the kind you wanted to be, that’s for sure.

Now, shower, you smell like the roof.

* * *

Sans couldn’t sleep, even after he left you in the library and went back to your room, he had too much energy (and that wasn’t something that happened every day). Instead of that, he went back to the roof and spent the next hours looking at the sky.

Did humans even understand how marvelous their sky was? An infinite ocean of knowledge to be discovered, things to be seen; every second the stars grew more and more beautiful, the moon shone with more intensity, and when the sun started to rise…

God, he didn’t know a sky could be painted with all those colors; that something could shine to the point of blinding.

And it was _so_ blue.

He wouldn’t have minded spending the rest of his life there, but it was late (well, early) and Papyrus would get worried if he didn’t found him in the house. So he slowly stood up and teleported to the garden, a warm voice greeted him when he entered the kitchen.

“Good morning, Sans” Toriel was standing in front of the stove, making breakfast with Frisk clinging from her dress.

Sans had to force his pupils not to morph into little hearts “morning, tori” He plopped his body on one of the kitchen chairs, eyes never leaving Toriel’s back “preparing an _eggcelent_ breakfast?”

She giggles and his Soul jumps in his chest. Toriel’s laugh is precious, soft and warm, like a summer breeze. It makes him fly a little.

“Frisk wants pancakes, want some too?” She asks with a sweet smile.

He hums approvingly, loving every moment of this domestic scene. He waiting in the kitchen while Toriel makes breakfast, the kid playing around, Papyrus about to wake up, the four living in a house that actually feels like a home. It sounds so nice, to truly have a family…

There’s the loud sound of the front door opening, Sans walks to the kitchen door to take a peek outside. Did you woke up and went outside without them noticing?

There’s an unknown man standing in the doorway.

“Hey” He calls your name “It’s me! Look, I even teleported outside the door this time! I’m not breaking into your….” His voice trails down when he crosses eyes with Sans, Asgore lazily waking up in between. There’s a moment of silence before a little red-haired head appears from behind the man legs and-

“MOM!”

In Low Ebott, people with really good hearing can swear they heard a door slamming somewhere.

* * *

You have to give it to James; he could be truly reliable when it came to work.

“I must have expected for you to be the one sending that message yesterday” He says, coffee cup firmly grasped in his hand (probably as some kind of anchor to reality) watching Max and Frisk giggling and clinging from Undyne’s arms while she flexes them “Glad to see you’re okay” He takes a little sip, looking you from the corner of his eyes.

You make a sound like a snarl while drying your hair with a towel, fully changed and not in your best mood. After hearing Max scream you pretty much ran out of the bathroom at full speed (gladly, you at least had a towel around you) and practically jumped down the stairs; your magic sparkled everywhere, charging the air with static. You looked like the most furious mother bear ever.

Toriel and Sans were terrified, being the only ones awake enough to see your little moment, the other monsters were just really surprised by the noise. If they were scared of your magic before, you didn’t wanted to know what they would think now.

James coughs to catch your attention “I suppose this is the… _exploration party_ you mentioned in your previous letter” He looks so professional and mature you can feel your fifteen-year-old-self giggling.

Your twenty-four-year-old-self, on the other hand, does an affirmative sound and hangs the towel on a chair “King Asgore, Ex-Queen Toriel” _That must hurt_ “Leader of the Royal Guard Undyne, Royal Scientist Alphys, uh, Guard in Training? Papyrus and…” You turn to look at Sans, an eyebrow raised.

“sans the skeleton” He introduces himself, still a little tense, you just shrug.

“Sans the Skeleton” You cough in your hand, shaking the awkwardness away “Anyway, the kid’s name is Frisk and they are the ‘Human Ambassador’, they kind of, uhm, broke the barrier”

There’s a couple of seconds of James processing the information “They… broke the barrier?”

“They broke the barrier” You nod.

“But before that, they must have _passed_ through the barrier, right?”

You swallow “They did, they have been missing for a week”

Silence. James looks at you, then at Frisk, and back at you, his eyes making you deeply anxious. Adults, they look at you like everything you said was a lie.

He hums “The Circle will be… _very interested_ in that…” That voice again, that way of subtly saying ‘I will be the one to decide if you are telling the truth or not, young lady’, you can feel the blood burning under your skin.

_Divorce was a good idea._

“When are they coming, anyway?” _Keep your cool; you’re better than this…_

“They should be arriving anytime, your petition was quite… _unexpected"_ That face again; _that condescending face!_  

“The Circle is coming?”

You turn; Asgore (and everyone in the room) gives you a confused look. Oh, right, you took this decision half an hour ago without telling anyone. Did you even introduce James? _Bonehead_ (Did you just think that with Sans’ voice?).

“Right” Awkward cough “This is my ex-husband, James” He gives them a small, cordial nod “He’s a member of the Circle” You have to rise your hand to make Undyne a signal before she jumps at him, Alphys holding her arm as a precaution “I asked him to settle a meeting with them, today.” 

You feel like the first time you directed a class, anxiously looking the faces of a group of monsters instead of a classroom full of thirteen year-olds, and you’re secretly glad when Frisk comes running, giving you a big (and needed) bear hug. Max, that is still learning to share you with others, comes running too, quickly clinging to your leg. Two kids fighting for your attention, _ah, just teacher stuff_.

“Now you two! You’re going to make me fall!” You softly scold them; they weren’t doing anything that bad.

Frisk lets go and tackles Max to the floor, tickling him and rolling over the carpet. You catch Toriel worried but kind smile looking at them play and feel a little relieved that she doesn’t look as defensive with Max as she does with you. Maybe you really just need to warm up to her.

Max runs all-around the house, clinging to everything and jumping so much you’re kind of worried he’s going to get an asthma attack, but he doesn’t care, he’s too busy laughing and asking and being amazed by the creatures in his living room. He climbs the couch trying to get a better view of Asgore’s face and your heart almost melts when the old king takes him in his arms and lets him touch his horns. James moves forward and you send him a “don’t you dare” glare before going back to your son. Max’s green eyes grow wider, full of curiosity.

Ah, the eyes of a child, the kind of eyes that shine when they see something they don’t understand, not like the dull eyes of adults; kids have eyes that wonder and marvel before even thinking about fear.

Asgore carefully puts Max back on the floor, and he looks at the tall goat monster in awe for a short while, before turning to run again. You give your ex-husband a stern glare “If I believed there was something dangerous for Max here, _I_ would be the one stopping him, remember why you gave me the custody.”

He still looks a little worried, but doesn’t make another attempt to stop Max, you have a good point ( _a really good point_ ). When you return your head to the front, Max is standing in front of the skeleton brothers, inspecting Sans closely. _Too_ closely…

“Personal space, Max” You call him out and he jumps a little before taking a step back.

You love your son, but sometimes he resembles you too much, especially when he gets excited. Sans looks less nervous now that there isn’t a four year-old .2 inches from his tibia, but you can still see sweat forming on the sides of his skull, and you find yourself thinking that (maybe) he’s bad with children. After seeing him around Frisk all this time you didn’t even thought of it being the possibility, but…

Max starts to round him, like a lion, a big smile in his face while closely inspecting him and Papyrus, completely ecstatic. Sans tries his best not to lose his cool.

Maybe your son is just too much for him.


	10. Miss Fairy vs The High Circle of Magic

After a light scolding (“That’s no way to treat our guests”) Max stops looking at Sans and Papyrus like walking anatomy books, quickly running to sit on your lap. His breathing is uneven, a little whistling sound coming from his chest, and you eye his blue backpack on the floor, knowing that the inhaler is in the right pocket. Max’s asthma isn’t that much of a problem, he’s going to lose it when his magic grows stronger, but you make sure to always have an inhaler close anyway, better safe than sorry.

“And you all come from the other side of the barrier?” Max asks to no one in particular; Frisk, who is in a similar position in Toriel’s lap, nods effusively “And how is it? What does it looks like? There are dragons? I want to see a dragon!”

When Frisk signals for Max, they always make sure to do it slowly and as clearly as possible, so he can keep up with the conversation. Toriel smiles warmly at you, and it looks like for the first time she looks you like a fellow mother instead of a dangerous creature.

There’s a comfortable silence in the room, everyone looking at the two kids talking. You can see Asgore’s melancholic eyes and Sans’ little heart-like pupils, both looking at Toriel lovely patting Frisk’s head. Taking a side on this love triangle is going to be complicated.

“Are you really going to help us with this?” You ask nonchalantly, some faces turn to look at you “I thought you didn’t like my ‘hippie’ ideas…” Your ex-husband sighs at your suggestive tone, and you try to remember yourself not to pick a fight with everyone today.

“What I like doesn’t matter, in this moment, this is the best for the magic society” He says stern, eyes fixed on the cup. _Remember, no fighting!_ “I’ll do as much as I can, but the others aren’t really convinced with this idea and, well…” His voice trails down, looking absently at Max “We know what they think about you...”

There’s a knock on the door before anyone can ask you anything.

“They’re here.”

You tell Papyrus to go play upstairs with the kids, and steel your resolve. Taking a deep breath, you open the door.

_You feel your sins crawling on your back._

* * *

The High Circle of Magic is composed by the heads of the seven most powerful families in the magic society, most of them are old enough to be your grandparents, and James is the youngest (and, surprisingly, most reasonable) member, without doubt. You’re happy they are too worried finally fawning over a king and kissing his feet to be able to look at you like a particularly disgusting bug. Toriel and Asgore’s smiles, on the other hand, are as polite as possible, but you can see the ex-queen growing out of patience while the king just tries not to look as uncomfortable as he feels.

_Maybe this wasn’t that good of an idea…_

You feel something moving at your side, and when you turn, Sans is there, smiling at you.

“so… those are them?”

You try not to snicker at his ‘are you kidding me?’ tone “Yep, those are them. The High Circle of Magic, a bunch of people that believe they’re too good to walk along us, _peasants_ ” You dramatize a little, extending your arms and raising your chin.

“and you think you can win them?” He tries not to let it slip, but you can hear the second question, the one about what James said earlier.

“Oh, don’t worry, hun, I spent a _lot_ of time with them when I was still married” Sans catches the acid dripping from your words, and his survival instinct tells him that he shouldn’t point it out if he appreciates his life “I know a couple of weak spots and _dirty clothes_ from _all of them_.”

He looks at you worried, more sweat appearing in his brow. You sound dangerous, not even Undyne looked as dangerous, and she had been so mad Alphys had to take her upstairs to stop her from biting someone’s head off (not that you would mind).

“sounds like you know them well” Nervous laugh “a _magical connection_?”

You chuckle, relaxing a little your glare. _Didn’t you say ‘no fighting’?_ “Not really, James was their favorite, but they never liked me, so they always asked him to ‘bring me to the reunions’ or stuff, to show that there were no ‘hard feelings’” You let a little laugh, remembering their forced smiles every time they saw you entering a room “I think they threw a party when I asked for divorce”

Sans lets a little chuckle, your playful tone putting him slightly at ease. He wasn’t good with this kind of official stuff, he vaguely remembers being part of some important reunions when he worked in the lab, but somehow he knows that the ambient wasn’t nearly as… _complicated_ as this. He fells completely out of place here, unsure what he’s doing in the middle of this “high class” encounter, and it looked like you were in a similar situation, with all that awkward shuffling and fists opening and closing.

You looked really uncomfortable in all this “formality”, and he felt that strangely reassuring.

James coughs and everyone turns to look at him, the older witches almost having hearts in their eyes and you fell a little bad for him, he always tried to make them take thing seriously “Now that we’re all here, I think it’s time to start discussing the matter at hand” He sends you a little glare, and you ready yourself for this new battle “Will the High Circle of Magic actively participle in the reincorporation of monsters in the human society?”

You delight with the panic in their eyes.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Sure, sending someone with a “not our problem” note is easy, but try telling that to a giant goat with a giant crown, try telling that to a _king_.

_Doesn’t look that easy, huh?_

“Your Majesty” One of the older witches steps to the front “You must understand, this is a risky move and the magic society is in a decline, we must worry for ourselves before worrying for others-”

“And _why_ is the magic society in a decline? If you don’t mind me asking” Asgore sends you an appreciative look while Toriel clearly disapproves him with her eyes. You’re pretty sure the old king would let the Circle do whatever they wanted if he was alone “I’m sure our guests would _love_ to understand more about our situation, since it’s what keeps us from helping them” The members of the Circle send you a dark glare, someone hushes a ‘Traitor’ and you try not to snicker “How rude! I would never let someone talk like that in my classroom.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence filled with glares and silent curses (all of them directed to you, of course), before a warlock the age of your father starts to talk “There’s a lack of interest from the younger generations in our society, each time less witches and warlocks want to follow the Ancient Paths, they leave their training to become firefighters, scientists,” His eyes find yours, and you’re not sure if you’re hyped or scared “ _Teachers_ ” The word is practically spat your way, and you can’t help feeling proud of it “Mixing their genes with _humans_ ” _Oh, for God’s sake! It’s just a word!_ _“_ Give them the possibility to completely ignore their roots; half-blood children don’t develop magic naturally…”

“are you telling me this whole ‘decline of the magic society’ is just a teenager-rebellious phase?” Sans chuckles when he hears your muffled laugh from behind your hand. At this distance he can hear the magic roaring excited inside your chest.

You’re getting hyped, maybe a little too much.

James walks behind you and coughs, giving you a stern look and making a motion to the front “And to make it worse!” You wonder why your ex-husband wants you to pay attention to an over-dramatic warlock “This last generation has only _one_ truly magic child!”

Oh, so this is why...

It’s good he gave you a head start, otherwise you wouldn’t have enough time to gather all your self-control and hold down that triumphant smile trying to make its way to your lips, the little rebellious flame on your chest that always burns brighter when one of the older witches reproves your decisions is almost a bonfire now that every eye on the room is looking at you and the Circle’s members are glaring holes in your head. All this problems, all this hate; all because Max is the only child completely magical and he is _your_ son. The son of a traitor who told her parents she didn’t wanted to “just be a witch”, of someone who became a teacher and has no problems with working for _humans_.

You feel your “sins” crawling on your back, and you _love_ every second of it.

“Our society is falling! Or morals are disappearing!” _Act like and adult, don’t pick a fight, act like an adult_ “Our people is-” _You’re an adult! Act like one!_ “ _\- changing_!”

_That’s it, too much to act like an adult._

“Oh, my God, did you hear that?!” You turning to Sans, talking in a stage whisper “People _changes_!” Sans snickers and gives you a mischievous grin. 

“unbelievable”

“Outrageous”

“who would thought it?”

“How dare they?!”

Sharing a room with the Circle always ends up in you being fifteen again, somehow (wasn’t this supposed to be a serious meeting?).

The old warlock scrunches his pointy nose and pretends the two of you don’t exist “They have started to question our principles-”

“i thought one of the principles of magic was to question stuff”

“Oh, it is! Until you question _their_ stuff”

“-and misinterpret the Ancient Paths-”

“Did you know that the Ancient Paths were written in a language so old that there’s almost four hundred different ways to interpret them” You are ‘whispering’ to Sans, but your eyes are fixed in the members of the High Circle of Magic, savoring their reactions “And just one of them traduce a little paragraph at the beginning in the exact way for it to state that it should be used as a guide to teach magic?”

There’s a heavy silence, before Sans makes a question, almost without noticing.

“and what happens with the other 399 ways?”

You smile. It’s a dangerously mischievous smile.

“Well, some of them say it’s a recipe for a pie”

A thunder falls somewhere. _Oh, how you love pointing the pie one…_

“How disrespectful!” An old witch covered in necklaces pipes up “Your Highness! You must understand our situation!”

You lose interest in the conversation after the chaos starts, there’s a lot of screaming and James doesn’t look as mad at you as you expected him to be. You causing a ruckus probably is part of his plan, somehow, you couldn’t think of other reason for him not to shut you up after your first sentence anyway.

Sans, on the other hand, is trying not to laugh his ass off and failing.

“w-what the fuck?!”

“Oh” You smile, hyped to unexpected points “Didn’t you know? Ancient languages can be pretty interesting, there’s this word that can either be ‘heaven’ or slag for ‘goat-fuc-”

Your ex-husband calls your name, he’s standing next to you with a reproaching look in his eyes “I’ll to go talk with the queen” He gives a quick glance around, stopping a second to long on Sans before going back to your eyes “Try not to get too distracted, your turn is about to come again”

He goes to sit beside Toriel, who is calmly discussing something with a pair of witches covered in jewelry, they don’t look so calm.

When you turn, Sans is smiling at you, hands in his pockets “no one told me that ‘marriage’ was human for ‘adoption’”

You snicker, trying to calm your inner fire down “Well he _is_ ten years older and I’m not particularly mature”

“i think you’re pretty mature”

“Should I remember you I spent last night laughing like a psycho in the roof?”

He turns to look at the discussion; Asgore is having some trouble dealing with the over-dramatic warlock “i think it was a cute laugh, tho”

Remember that part about calming your inner fire? Yeah... let’s just say you’re not used to disinterested compliments.

“W-wha-!”

“I am sorry, but I don’t understand it” Asgore’s voice is calm and soft, immediately catching your attention. Sans words are quickly forgotten “The situation you’re presenting me doesn’t sound like a problem helping us will complicate” The king looks like a big, fluffy wolf trapped between angry rabbits “However, if what you truly want is just to not lend us your help…”

You don’t know if he does it on purpose or if he’s just absurdly kind ( _probably the later_ ), but Asgore’s words make the Circle shake like leafs. You are actually enjoying the view when you catch James glare from the other side of the living room; “now”, say his eyes, and you can’t agree more. Now, before one of those assholes grows some balls and tells Asgore they don’t want to help.

Now.

_Do something, dammit._

“Wouldn’t it actually be helpful?”

Once again, you are everyone’s focus.

“ _Excuse us?_ ” A witch says, looking you and scrunching her nose.

“Wouldn’t help monsters reintegrate to human society be helpful for us?”

The witch narrows her eyes, looking you like you were a nasty thing. “And how would it help us, if you care to explain?” It looks like they’re still mad…

That’s… actually good, if you remember their discussions correctly. James always got them wrapping around his fingers when they were mad.

… o _h. So **that’s** why he let you get your way._

You take a deep breath, _it’s show time._

“As a witch that has opted to follow a human carrier” _Don’t mind the whispers, forget the glares_ “I can assure you that the main problem isn’t witches and warlocks leaving the Ancient Paths” _Breath, no one is looking at you_ “Is the magic society being a closed cage-”

“How dare you?!”

“-we feel trapped by our magic” You calmly (and professionally, is you may add) ignore the interruption “Maybe in ancient times been a magic user was a blessing, but now all it feels like is a curse. We can’t be anything that is not a magic user, we can’t have friends outside the community because it would put our secret in danger, _we have to keep what we are a secret_ , like it’s something _bad_ ” You open your eyes, focusing all your attention on the Circle, trying to ignore the feeling of someone watching you from behind. _You’re just nervous…_ “It’s been two thousand years, we can’t keep being hidden forever, lying and being scared of what we are, I think…” Your voice trails down, suddenly dubious. What if this is a bad idea? What if they don’t buy it? What if everything explodes in your face?  

You feel a bony hand softly patting your back. Sans sends you a reassuring smile.

_Once again, he fills you with determination._

“I think that monsters’ incorporation to society is the first step to magic users’ incorporation to society”

There’s an audible gasp and everyone starts talking.

“How can you say something like that?!”

“Don’t you know what humans are capable of?!”

“’Magic users’ incorporation to society’, how dare you?!”

“This is what happens when kids deviate from the Ancient Paths!”

“And _who_ is going to make themselves responsible if this fails?!”

“I will.”

Every head turns to look at your ex-husband, calmly sipping his coffee next to the ex-queen.

“If this doesn’t work, I will resign from my position as a member of the High Circle of Magic” He exchanges a quick glance with Toriel, who seems to nod almost imperceptibly. Your jaw falls to the floor “Is that good enough?”

There’s silence while everyone process what just happened, then Toriel clears her throat, catching everyone’s attention.

“Well then, now that this argument is settled, I think we can step in the _details_.”

That was the first time you actually felt the _need_ to call Toriel “your Majesty”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can help thinking that Sans is the kind of guy who naturally flirts with everyone...  
> Also, don't go adding chapters between already-written chapters, take it from me .-. (Oh, but you just _needed_ to make it chronologically precise, didn't you Safire? Hmm' _Hmm?_ )


	11. Not a queen, not a witch. A mother

One thing you were sure, you were never _ever_ playing poker against Toriel. The ex-queen practically whipped the floor with the Circle, having them nodding and yes-your-Highness-ing her every time she stopped talking. You had never seeing anything more dangerous than that soft, little smile she put whenever she asked for something, and whatever James told her must have been one hell of an advise because, _damn_ , that was a slaughter.

Twenty minutes after the massacre, she had got three copies of a contract between Asgore and the Circle specifying the details of the agreement, another one to make sure she could be participate of the meetings and be part of the decisions(“I just want to make sure, I’m not the queen anymore after all”), a signed paper where it was specified that Frisk _was_ the Human Ambassador and you _were_ his temporal helper, a letter signed by every member of the Circle promising to have a prototype plan ready before the end of the month and, probably, give her their Souls.

You and Sans just stood there, eyes big as plates and mouths hanging open while she took absolute control of the situation, Asgore looked pleasantly surprised, probably knowing already this hidden side of the usually passive woman. You didn’t even moved when she stood up and lead everyone to the door, thanking them for their help and time. She held James’ hand between hers, thanking him for everything and telling him she expected him to be a “helpful acquaintance for all monsters”, before closing the door and turning back to you.

“Well that sure was a fruitful meeting” She says, tying her ears with a ribbon, like every time before offering to help with something in the house “I’m going to start making lunch now, why don’t you two go check on the kids upstairs?”

You and Sans nod in perfect synchrony before turning and walking towards the stairs. You have the feeling he too had to bite his tongue to not say “yes, your Majesty”.

* * *

“Did you know she could do… _that_?” You ask, still a little dazzled.

“i didn’t even existed when tori was still queen” Sans says, almost tripping in his surprised state.

“Well, you sure like them-” You stop midsentence, a big hand giving you a pat on the back that send all air in your lungs flying and stopping you from teasing Sans in front of others (luckily for him).

“THAT was one HELL of a speech, you NERD!” Undyne is behind you in the hallway, patting you with enough strength to leave you breathless. You haven’t interacted that much with her, usually she was out with Alphys looking around the fallen barrier, but if you knew something about her was that she was one of those persons that made things like “nerd” and “loser” sound like compliments.

The more time you spent with these monsters the more they looked like your students.

“You and Toriel showed those-”

“T-the kids, Undyne!”

“-LOSERS who RULES!”

You’re glad Alphys is there to control Undyne’s vocabulary, not that you really care about kids cursing, but not every parent thinks the same and you’re not precisely thrilled with having an argument with someone over kids _cursing_.

“I didn’t do that much, though, Toriel is who whipped the floor with them…” You try to shrug it off, after that display you really felt like she was in a completely different level.

 “WHAT?!” Undyne hold your shoulders with the intensity of a hurricane, making you wonder if she broke something or that ‘snap!’ was just your panic “You TOTALLY cleaned the way for her to OWN THEM!”

Undyne’s loud voice makes three little heads poke from behind Max’s room, and judging for his worried face, you are sure Frisk has already put him up with the details. You give them a thumps up, and the three of them start beaming, running to join the “hug” Undyne was giving you. There’s a lot of giggling everywhere when she lifts you, Papyrus chest pressed against your shoulder and Max and Frisk hanging from your neck, holding them close with you right arm. You take Sans arm when he tries to walk past you, pulling him and keeping his head close to your chest with your arm, locking him in place. Alphys laughs and claps behind Undyne, full of happiness, and you notice something in your chest (something that you have never felt before) jumping excited.

You don’t remember ever feeling like this.

* * *

“Need some help cooking?”

Toriel looks you from the side, carefully putting the knife down before speaking. “I wouldn’t mind another pair of hands, there’s a lot of mouths to feed”

You give her a little smile, taking place in front of the cutting board while she went to tend the pots, the unmistakable smell of home cooking filling the air.

There was a long silence between you two, just the sound of the knife and the wooden spoon occasionally scratching a pot cutting through that dense atmosphere. After you told Frisk how the meeting ended you couldn’t help feeling deeply embarrassed of letting you guest cook for _nine_ , completely forgetting that you have never before been alone with Toriel. This was an uncomfortable situation.

“Your ex-husband is quite a fine man” There’s something in Toriel’s voice that makes you think of aprons and fresh made cookies.

You snicker, shaking your head just a little “If we’re talking about ex-husbands, I sincerely prefer yours”

Now is Toriel’s turn to laugh halfheartedly “Please, if Asgore could handle political matters with half the easiness your ex-husband can I wouldn’t need to step in”

“Well” _Why does this feels like a fight? And why are you holding that knife with more strength than necessary?_ “If James had half of Asgore’s paternal instinct, then maybe we wouldn’t need monsters coming out of the Underworld for him to see our son”

“That pathetic whelp, keeping our people’s hopes high all this years with his halfhearted promises-”

“Marry a woman, disappear the week before she gives birth, insist you’re not a workaholic-”

“-what if another human never fell? What if we stayed underground forever? What would he have done then?!”

“-I mean, was that reunion more important than your wife giving birth? _Really?!_ ”

You sigh in synchrony, shaking your heads “ _Men, you just can’t trust their judgments_ ”

You look at each other and share a little, slightly nervous, laugh.

“I guess human men aren’t better than monster men” She says, giving you a soft smile for the first time in this crazy weekend.

You grin; a little more confident “You can say that again, sister” Her giggles are strangely reassuring.

The silence grows again after her giggles die, and you’re quickly dragged back to cooking when awkwardness starts filling the air. You can almost cut the atmosphere with butter knife.

“I want to apologize for my behavior until now.” You raise your head surprised, looking back at her. For a moment, you think you imagined that, before she speaks again “It was rude and unfair, I shouldn’t have judged you like that.”

You take a moment to process the situation. Toriel, the ex-queen of the Underground, the woman who just cleaned the floor with the biggest fishes in the magic society, with the persons that could make any witch’s life a hell just by snapping their fingers, was apologizing to _you_.

An elementary school teacher.

_Someone, come and slap you, this must be a dream._

You take a deep breath, trying not to panic and giggle anxiously “It’s not that bad, I mean, it’s not like I can’t say I don’t understand why you did it”

“No, it was wrong, I shouldn’t have acted like that, I-”

“Hey” You stop her midsentence, a feeling of familiarity filling you “It’s okay, I understand. If Max was running around someone who looks like a thunderstorm 24/7 I would be on edge too, I’m a mother after all”

Toriel nods, looking less dejected “I… I have seen what your kind can do with their magic when they can’t control it, and your magic particularly…” She trails down, biting her lip nervously.

“It looks really dangerous, doesn’t it?” You voice her thoughts out loud, making her jump surprised by the naturalness in your voice. You chuckle at her reaction, leaving the knife aside “I’ve had this ugly looking magic since day one in this world. Thrust me, this is not the first time someone has told me they feel unsettled by it” Toriel blushes embarrassed and you just snicker at her “But this _is_ the first time someone has apologized for judging me for it. Thanks” You smile, truly grateful, and she returns it, before deeply frowning and turning back to the pot. You raise an eyebrow without saying anything.

“It’s just…” She starts, moving the spoon stronger, brow furrowing more “Frisk wouldn’t stop talking about you, how a good teacher you were, how smart and kind and attentive you were, how much they liked your food and your house and I…” Toriel stops moving the spoon, you look more confused than before.

“Uh…” _Is this going where you think is going?_

“I couldn’t help it! I felt so jealous of you!” She finally says, a couple tears of frustration in her eyes “When they started saying that it was ‘so cool’ you were a witch I couldn’t stop myself from clinging to that to keep them away from you. I’m so, _so_ sorry, all you have done is help us and I-”

You put a hand in her arm, stopping her before she starts rambling “Toriel” You call her. She turns; little tears deny falling from her eyes “I can assure you that in all the time I have known Frisk I have never ever seen them happier than when they are with you.”

You don’t tell her the whole truth, of how no matter how much Frisk loved coming to your house and spending time with you and playing house, they always looked a little lonely when you left them by church’s door, how their little fist tightened when you remembered them they had to “go home” and how their eyes turned a little dull when Max called you “mom”.

How you always felt a little bad of not being able to be what they wanted you to be.

_How happy you are they finally found someone who can and wants to be it._

She sniffles, covering her face with a fluffy hand “I was so scared, after all that’s happened, I thought they would prefer staying with you and I…”

You hug her slowly, giving her all the space she may need to decide if she actually doesn’t want physical contact. But she doesn’t reject you, and you feel with you own skin the fluffiest fur in the world, tickling you.

“Frisk is a good kid, if you don’t give them a reason to run away, they won’t.”

She nods, still too emotional to talk. Your mother’s words come dancing to your head, _fear leads to hate_ , but doesn’t understanding leads out of hate?

It takes Toriel a while to collect herself, but when she does, she gives you a smile that shines like the sun, and thanks you for everything. You both go back to cooking before something burns.

“Asgore, Alphys and Undyne are going back to the Underground after this” She says suddenly, turning off the fire of a stove.

You make a little humming sound “Well, he _is_ the king” Toriel furrows a little, but makes no comments about it “I suppose he can’t disappear for so many days without people down there worrying”.

“I’m planning on going too, help with the organizing …”

You stop putting plates in the table, looking at her with worried eyes “Toriel, Frisk has been missing for a week, they can’t-”

“I know.” Her voice is firm, calm and sad “I wanted to ask if you… if you could take care of Frisk until I came back” You heart skips a beat and you turn to look at her, breathless “I don’t want to do this, I _really_ don’t want to do this” She says sternly, and you aren’t sure if it’s a good or bad thing that your chest feels lighter after that “But you are the only one here I can trust them to without fear”

“S-Sure!” You swallow the knot in your throat; nervously smiling “Until you come back” You feel like you should say something else, but your brain in half dead. A voice whispers something stupid in the back of your mind, and your repeat it “It’ll _beeee_ okay, Goat-Mom!” _Told you it was stupid._

There’s a moment of silence even more awkward silence, before the two of you burst in anxious giggles, trying to overcome the tension.

“Food is almost ready, what if we make something for dessert?” She suggests, and just flinches a little when your magic starts sparkling, taking the old cooking book of your grandmother from a cabinet.

“Sure, what do you have in mind?” You start to run through the pages, your family has a severe case of sweet tooth and most of your grandma’s cooking books are basically desserts’ recipes.

“Do you know what a butterscotch-cinnamon pie is?”

There’s a little light in her eyes, and you can perfectly understand why Sans fell in love with her and Asgore can’t seem forget her. Toriel is strong, elegant, kind and warm, she’s not ‘pretty’, but breathtakingly beautiful, the kind of beauty that only a woman who has lived through a lot can achieve.

“Haven’t eaten one in my life, but it sounds delicious, let’s make it.”

She giggles while you start looking for your baking tools.

“We could try that one you were talking about earlier too, if you want” She suggest with a mischievous little smile.

_Fuck._

“I’ll go bring the Ancient Paths!”

It wouldn’t be a surprise if _you_ got a crush on her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate the goat-parents, the goat-parents are trying their best...  
> Also, I'm not sure if I should:  
> A) Make a double update for Valentine's  
> or  
> B) Use this cute prompt I found on Tumblr to make a one-shot with Sans, Reader/Astrid and Max  
> In other news, I added a Submit box on my Tumblr because a friend was doing some fanart and I thought it would be cute if any of you wanted to do something like that too :3  
> And the Ask box is always open, I accept petitions too :3  
> ...  
> *desperately tries to make friends but is too scared to say it out loud*


	12. Just a normal day (with two skeletons and a missing child)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Update! Because I love you all! :3  
> I also posted the Valentine's Special (you can thank my lack of self-control for that)  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/5999527  
> Have a Supper Dupper Day! :3

Monday mornings are always the worst, you have to get up after a relaxed weekend, prepare Max for school and be out in the cold morning. Nope, Mondays are not your day. However, you have to get up anyway (and your dammed internal clock just won’t let you sleep another hour), so you start moving, trying to stretch a little before getting out of bed.

A pressure in your waist restrains your movement. You move a little more, the grip getting stronger, and you discover that it actually feels… like a hand, and is… is something _nuzzling_ against your ear?

_Please, tell me the last three years weren’t a dream and I actually got divorced_.

When you open an eye to take a nervous peek to the other body sleeping with you, you find a skull with closed eye sockets nuzzling against the side of your head, a bony arm holding you from the waist, keeping you in the bed which you were about to fall from.

What…?

You feel something shuffling under your line of vision, and find Max scooting closer to you, cuddling against your chest and murmuring something in his sleep. Blinking, you try to remember what’s happening. Yesterday… yesterday…

Oh, right, _monsters_.

Asgore, Toriel, Undyne and Alphys went back to the Underworld, while Sans and Papyrus stood to help if anything happened, Frisk didn’t went either, of course. Yeah, and then… after dinner, everyone was tired from walking that you just wanted to sleep, but Frisk and Max wanted to hear Sans reading to Papyrus, and you all just cuddled together in the bed, you were on the side that wasn’t against the wall, so you were almost falling most of the time, Sans holding your back to keep your balance. You must have fell asleep, and Sans provably thought that it was easier to just keep holding you than to carry you and Max. Papyrus and Frisk were on the other side, so he was pretty much sandwiched anyway.

Heh, how cute, everyone’s sleeping together…

…

How the hell are you going to get out?

Sans wasn’t going to let you go anywhere ( _God, he’s strong to be a skeleton_ ) and you didn’t wanted to wake up Max or Frisk, it was too early for them. You could always just sleep a little more, but your internal clock was telling you to wake up and there was still a bunch of stuff to do, you needed to do the lunches, make breakfast, make Sans and Papyrus lunch and get ready before getting the kids ready…

… well, how difficult could waking up Sans be?

* * *

Sans didn’t wanted to wake up, it was the first time in timelines he didn’t had a nightmare and he was trying to enjoy it. Sure, it started as a nightmare, that one in which he found Papyrus lonely scarf in the forest, and the trees stared to close on to him, trapping him, his Soul clutching in his chest while the world became darker and asphyxiating, voices whispering from the trees, laughing at how he could protect his brother, how he let the human do this again (and again, _and again_ ).

But then, in the middle of the darkness, something brushed against his cheek. Something soft and tickling that smelled like aromatic herbs and a unique something, something that couldn’t exist down there. It smelled like fresh air, air that wasn’t trapped underground, air that you could only find in the surface. Whatever it was that thing, softly brushing against his face, it smelled like the surface, like fresh air and sunlight and an open sky.

And he didn’t want it to go.

He wanted more; he wanted it all, he wanted that thing to pull him away (away from the nightmares, from the memories, from the truth, away from everything), to take him to a place where he could sleep without fear. He wanted it to take him to the surface.

And it did. The voices disappeared and the darkness was overcome by a bright white light. When Sans looked up, all he saw was a big moon surrounded by shiny stars and an uncontrollable laughter sounding somewhere beside him. He was laying on the roof again and Papyrus’ scarf was now the old book, carefully resting in his chest, your laughter filling the air.

“Hey, Sans…”

He turned to look at you, everything shining white with the moonlight and your eyes holding that almost imperceptible mischievous glint that only appeared when you alone with him, letting yourself go.

“Sans, wake up…”

Wake up? Why would he want to wake up? What was there to wake up to? His room in Snowdin and another day of wondering if this was going to be a good or bad timeline? The death of his brother and friends in hands of a six year-old? The anxiety? The fear? Why would he ever want to wake up, if he could just stay here forever hearing you laugh and looking at the stars?

“Sans, please, wake up…”

Why do you keep asking him to wake up? He doesn’t want to wake up! He likes it here, where the stars are real and the sky is real and he doesn’t need to worry about lying or fighting or dying or anything.

He likes it here, where the nightmares and the memories can’t find him…

“Wake up!”

Why do you want to wake up? Don’t you like it here?

“Sans!”

No!

“WAKE UP!”

Sans jumped, making you fall, startling Max up, who pulled Frisk, who surprised kicked Papyrus, who stood up so quickly everyone was sent flying out of the bed.

There were a couple of seconds of uncertainty, before you took a deep, _deep_ breath, and stood up.

“Max, Frisk, let’s get you ready for school.”

And you left the room, kids obediently following behind you.

Sans gulped unconsciously.

* * *

“And the rules are?”

Sans played with his fingers, looking at the floor and feeling (again) like he was being grounded, even when he couldn’t remember a single time anyone tried to ground him.

“no going out, no answering the door, no getting near windows, no touching the stove, no playing with the stuff in your room and no getting near to the basement” He listed before daring to look up at you “y’know we aren’t kids, right?”

You turn to send him a stern glare before going back to fixing Max’s scarf “Classes end at three, but I have to stay a little longer to clean the classroom, so we probably will be here around four” Your face relaxes and Sans feels like he can breathe again “Papyrus’ lunch is in the oven and we’re out of ketchup, so I made a big jar of tomato juice for you, is in the fridge” You stand up, inspecting your surroundings approvingly “If you and Papyrus can be a couple of sweethearts, do me a favor and check the kitchen, make a shopping list, I’ll go to the store after coming back” You turn to walk to the door, Max and Frisk waiting there (both with matching sweaters and scarfs, _of course_ ) ready to go “If anything happens just call my cellphone or the school’s phone, if anyone asks, you’re my ex-husband and there’s a private problem with something related to Max; I can’t promise to instantly be here, but I’ll try to come as soon as I can” You finally turn to look at him, giving an apologetic smile, the black messenger bag on your shoulder and your ‘work clothes’ (formal enough to wear to work, comfortable enough to use while running behind a bunch of seven year-olds) making you look younger than your behavior “Sorry to go all ‘morning mad’ on you, it’s not your fault it’s Monday”

Sans lets out a laugh that surprises you, slowly shaking his head “it’s okay, pal”

You smile back, shuffling nervous on your feet “So, uh…”

This is the first time in a long while you have said ‘goodbye’ to someone before going to work (you’re used to taking Max and just leaving behind an empty house), and not knowing what to do is making you anxious. When you reach for the doorknob, nervously biting your lip, Frisk runs and jumps to Sans’ arms, hugging him close.

“Later, Sans” They say, and for the look in Sans’ eyes you are sure his heart melted just like yours.

_God, he’s going to love being a father._

“later, kid” He says petting their head.

Max, that does everything Frisk does and blindly follows them everywhere, jumps to hug Sans too.

“Later, Sans!”

You choke down your laughter when Sans stiffens and looks at you scared, pleading for help with his eyes. Even when Max is a good kid, he is still four and a little hurricane when he gets excited, compared to Frisk’s quiet and mature personality, your son is too much for poor little Sans.

Being the merciful spirit you are, you make sure to subtly push Max away from Sans while taking your turn to hug him “Later, Sans” You say with a chuckle “Tell Papyrus ‘bye’ for us”

And with that, and everyone waving one last time, you opened the door and left.

Sans didn’t started laughing until he was sure you were far away enough.

_God dammit_ , he didn’t know how to deal with you. In the last weekend he has seen you jump from teacher to mother to just you in less than an hour, he was sure that in the eyes of the others it wasn’t that obvious, but, for some reason, you let yourself go around him and made painfully obvious the difference between your “controlled self” and your “normal self”. It was like you didn’t know how to act around adults out of a professional ambient.

“actually”, Sans thought while sitting in the couch and opening one of your astronomy book “it’s almost like she doesn’t interact with people of her age outside work”

But that’s just ridiculous…

Isn’t it?

* * *

It was a normal Monday, and you didn’t felt comfortable with it. Sure, you were praying not to have problems with anyone today when you took Frisk and Max to the church before going to school, but when you walked through town and _every person you found_ just waved you hello and smiled at Frisk telling them they were worried you couldn’t help the internal facepalm. A week, the kid was missing _a week_ and when they suddenly appeared next to you no one even dared to think you had something to do with it. Even the sisters got all excited when Frisk told them they had a new mom and where temporary staying in your house until she came back, they said they would pack all their stuff for you to pick up later and wished you a nice day, telling Frisk to bring their mother as soon as she came back.

No questions, no inquiries, no doubts.

Everyone saw you walking with a missing child, saying that they were suddenly adopted by an unknown woman and _no one doubted it_.

Either you had one hell of a reputation or people in Low Ebott came out of a fairytale (a nice fairytale, where the town didn’t try to kill anyone)… well, taking in consideration some of the stuff you’ve seen here, it probably was the later. Which was good, actually; you couldn’t think of a better place for monsters to first appear than Low Ebott. People would probably offer them pie and tea and then kindly ask them if they were some kind of spawn of Satan or something like that. The nice old lady from the farm would give them some vegetables and the owner of the store would make them a “Welcome to Low Ebott” banner.

Yeah, you could see that happening.

Besides, Low Ebott was less than twenty minutes walking from the mountain, with all that magic so close, people here was probably used to weird things. They didn’t scream in terror after the “giant crow” incident, right? (Which reminds you, Max hasn’t been feeding wild animals with your stuff again, has he?)

You take another bite of your sandwich, a couple of girls giggling and braiding your hair, while you watch the other kids playing. It’s break time and you are in watching duty for the day, the other two homeroom teachers are inside, but their two assistants are here. You want an assistant too, even if you are five years younger than them, that doesn’t mean you have infinite stamina, you get tired of running behind kids too-

“Sam is climbing the big tree again!”

_Here we go._

“I’ll go, don’t worry” You make a signal to the two women ready to stand up, they nod, sitting back but keeping an eye in case you needed help.

Sam was a “boyish girl”, like your coworkers said; she liked climbing trees, throwing stones to the river and fighting with other kids, everything you wanted to be at her age. She wasn’t a bad kid, but she was a trouble maker, and like all the other trouble makers, the other teachers subtly pushed the responsibility on you. After all, you were good “dealing with these things”.

“Sam, we already talked about this, no tree climbing in school hours”

The little brunette looks down at you, head hanging upside down, before jumping to your open arms “But they dared me!” She says, pointing behind you.

“I thought we weren’t accepting dangerous dares anymore?” You say, turning towards a group of five kids, they’re all boys and they sure look more nervous than necessary.

“They said I can’t climb trees ‘cause I’m a girl!”

_Oh, so that’s why they’re scared…_

“Is that so?” Sam smiles a big grin while you put her on the ground, quickly hiding behind you to get the best spot for today’s scolding “I suppose, gentlemen, that you all already know what comes now”

The boys cast they’re glares down, embarrassed of making the “good teacher” mad; you hardly ever got mad with any kind of kid. But sexism had a special place in your heart, just like with racism and any topic that include the Ancient Paths as an acceptable study plan, you got pretty mad, pretty fast when it came to it.

“And bring me your notebooks before the end of the day; I want to talk with your parents” One of the kids opens his mouth scared, quickly raising his hand “Except you, Jacob, you’re staying here after class today”

“You’re staying here after class today” was the secret equivalent of “I know you just did this to follow the others, and even when that’s wrong, I’m not calling your parents”. The oh-so-terrible “after class” was just an hour or so of you hearing the kid’s problems and helping them build some self-esteem while cleaning the classroom; it was nothing out of this world (no matter what the other teachers said). Trouble kids used to do what you told them because you didn’t used to order them around and actually payed attention to what they had to say, you were patient and understanding, so they usually took a liking on you.

It was the same when you worked in a high school, your coworkers used to ask how you managed to control “those wild animals”, but you just shrugged and said that you did nothing especial, you just told them your opinion, pointed out a few things and remembered them they weren’t kids anymore and you had no power over them (“I’m going to get worried, but your decisions are yours and only yours, I can’t go taking them for you, telling you what to do”). Teenagers and kids liked to know that at least _someone_ respected their decisions.

You always thought that it was pretty obvious, but after almost three years in the field, you discovered that hearing what the kids had to say and respecting their opinions was, somehow, a revolutionary idea.

_And everybody was convinced you were like the “Dog Whisperer” of kids._

_How the hell did that even work?_

“Mom!”

You turn around; Max and Frisk are behind you, covered head to toes in dirt. They come running, Max almost jumping to keep up with Frisk, before they notice and slow down for the little kid.

“Frisk found some pretty rocks near the forest!”

While you crouch to hear your son excited talk about the rocks and how one looked like an arrow point, you couldn’t help thinking that Frisk was a perfect example of your idea. The other teachers worriedly insisted you had to find a way to make them talk, you let the kid decide what they wanted to do with their voice, and here we are; almost six months and a barrier broken later, happy like a little sun.

You were glad you hadn’t forced things with Frisk back then; their closeness to you wasn’t just good for them, but also good for Max. Before Frisk’s apparition in your life Max was painfully shy, usually distancing himself from others to avoid risking your secret, and stood indoors most of the time due to his fragile immune system, he didn’t had friends after the first two months and by the third, most of the kids plainly avoided him. You were considering homeschooling Max when Frisk appeared and slowly made their way into your lives, taking your son out of his shell and giving him the kind of reassurance you couldn’t give.

Max never had problems with them not using their voice (excitedly joining the sign language classes when you came out with the idea) and Frisk was always happy to play inside with the little kid when he couldn’t go out (and hear him go on and on about stars and rocks and almost anything). Both respected the other’s silence when it came to secrets, probably because they understood, and just enjoyed each other company, building their little friendship step by step.

You watched the two kids look in awe a black shiny little stone, thinking about how it went from Frisk following you everywhere to being your son’s best friend, when a wayward thought crossed your mind, quickly pushing it away.

_If Frisk was so happy here, why did they climb the mountain in the first place?_

* * *

“We’re home!”

“welcome back”

You heart skipped a beat, hitting your head against the closed door when you jumped. Sans was laying on your couch, some of your old astronomy books pilled in the coffee table. You had completely forgotten the house wasn’t empty.

“Fu-” Kids are present “-dge. You scared me there…” Sans raises an eyebone and you try to laugh your tension away “I’m just not used to hearing an answer, it’s been a while since I left my parents’ house”

He chuckles, making your agitated nerves relax “sorry, pal, didn’t want to scare the _magic_ out of you”

You sigh, dropping your bag in the table and taking a seat next to his feet “Keep doing witch jokes and you’re going to sleep in the garden”

“looks like someone is feeling _witchy_ today”

You frown, not able to hide your smile “That’s it! Papyrus! Sans is making bad jokes again!”

“SANS!” The tall skeleton appears on top of the stairs, wearing one of your old aprons and holding a broom. The kids start laughing “NOT IN FRONT OF THE LITTLE HUMANS!”

You laugh at their married couple fight, Frisk rolls over the carpet and Max puts your nerves on edge when he coughs a little between giggles, but you still laugh every second until Papyrus turns to look at you.

“WELCOME HOME, WITCH HUMAN, TINY HUMAN AND, UHM…” He stops, looking closely at Max “TINIEST HUMAN?”

Max turns towards you, a big smile on his face, you feel Sans shiver by your side “Mom! I have a nickname! I have a nickname!”

“You do, sweetie” You kiss the top of his head before turning towards Papyrus to return the greeting, when the cables in your brain connect “Papyrus… where you… _cleaning_?”

The tall skeleton looks embarrassed and plays with the broom in his big hands “I THOUGHT THAT SINCE WE’RE YOUR GUESTS I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, COULD HELP YOU CLEANING, AS THE GREAT GUEST I AM”

You look at him, eyes wide and a hand over your heart, completely touched by his words “Such a good boy… such a good, good boy, your brother doesn’t deserve you”

“hey!” Sans pipes, you chuckle at his fake anger “i did my part too, i did the shopping list”

“Oh, really?” You ask unamused, Frisk and Max snicker behind you.

“look for yourself” He hands you a paper and you look really surprised… for like, five seconds.

“Sans…”

“yes?”

“This is just a paper with ‘KETCHUP’ written in red marker”

Sans gives you a knowing smile and the kids start giggling in anticipation “it’s all we need”

You sigh, trying not to laugh too, when Papyrus comes to the front waving another paper.

“WORRY NOT, WITCH HUMAN” You’re not sure how he gets to strike an heroic pose wearing a frilly apron, but he does it “I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE ACCOMPLISHED YOUR TASK IN PLACE OF MY LAZY BROTHER”

You make a little curtsey when taking the shopping list and shot Sans a smug smile, he just responds shrugging and winking at you “Well, thank you, Pap-” You stop, raising an eyebrow “Papyrus?”

“HUMAN?”

“Did you…” There aren’t enough words in the world to describe your surprise “Did you make a crossword with the shopping list?”

“WELL, YES” He looks as lost as you “THAT’S HOW WE DID IT IN SNOWDIN”

That’s…

That’s pretty impressive, actually.

You open your mouth to voice your thoughts, when something else crosses your mind “Doesn’t it smell like something is burning?”

Tic.

Toc.

“THE SPAGHETTI!”

_Ah, cohabitation._


	13. Do you wanna have a bad time?

Sans is surprised; it’s been almost a week since he started staying at your house and he can’t remember a single time the dinner table hasn’t been covered in books, papers and the occasional witch stuff here and there. Tonight, however, when he came back with Papyrus and Frisk after doing a quick trip to Snowdin to get more clothes, he found the table completely clean. Actually, everything is empty, and there’s no sight of you or Max anywhere.

 “red? kid?” Sans has started calling you ‘Red’ (“y’know? ‘cause your magic is red”) and you don’t mind, because apparently no one calls you by your name anyway. “you guys here?”

There’s absolute silence, not even a mouse walking or a bird singing in the forest can be heard. An eerie feeling crawls on his back while he signal Papyrus to wait, the tall skeleton nervously playing with his scarf but never letting go of Frisk’s little hand.

Sans takes a step inside, a cold shiver runs down his spine. He never noticed how dark your house could be without those magic lights you hanged from the ceiling or the occasional red sparkles moving stuff here and there, how silent everything was without Max high pitched voice and your soft singing when you think no one is hearing. Alone, this big old house in the border of the forest was just a lifeless building.

_Is this the right house?_

An even worse thought crosses his mind, freezing him in place.

_Is this the right timeline?_

This may not be a Reset, but how can he be sure there aren’t more ways of manipulating time than just Resets and Saves, that this isn’t some kind of parallel reality where you don’t exist or something like that. He survived the accident and relived the same week a thousand times; he has seen and done things that no one would ever believe if he said them out loud.

In this moment of his life, Sans will believe _anything_.

A door opens somewhere and Sans turns around with a jump, blue magic burning in his right eye. Two Gaster Blasters materialize above his head, opening their mouths and charging deadly white rays.

“That’s enough basement for you.”

“But moooooom!”

“No, Max.”

“But-”

Max stops in the middle on his complaint, Sans is standing alone in the living room, a tight smile on his face. You’re the only one who notices the nervous sweat in his brow.

You’re also the only one who got to see the giant laser beam.

Sans sweat duplicates when you raise an eyebrow. “What-”

“FRIIIIIIIIISK!” Max runs to the open front door and tackles Frisk and Papyrus to the floor; you catch Sans’ relieved sigh from the corner of your eye. “Today is new moon! Today is new moon!” Max’s red hair flies in every direction when he turns to look at you, jumping in place. “Mom! Can Frisk and Papyrus join the prayers tonight? Pretty, pretty pleeeeeeease!”

You nod, keeping your eyes on the short skeleton, frowning. “Sure, sweetie.”

Sans takes a step back. “then i’ll just go-” A hand tightly holding his arm stops him.

Your smile is dangerously sweet. “Why don’t you go to your room and explain them the ritual while _Sans_ helps me prepare dinner?”

The lazy skeleton’s smile falls while your son pushes Frisk and Papyrus upstairs, leaving him alone with you in the living room. Red magic sparkles from your hands.

“Now,” You turn slowly, casting a cold glance towards Sans. “ _What the hell was that?_ ”

Sans gulps, this couldn’t be good.

* * *

“Y’know,” You’re mad, Sans can tell it by the way you hold that knife, no one does it like that unless they’re mad (Mad human with a knife? Is this a déjà vu?). “We’ve been at this for fifteen minutes and all I’ve seen you do is avoid giving me an answer”

“i’m not-”

“It’s a simple question, Sans.” Red magic and sharp things aren’t the kind of combination Sans wants to have in front of his face. “What was that?”

_And why were you pointing it at my son?_

He knows this isn’t about him using magic or about to shot a laser beam inside your house, if it was just between him and you, you would have just given him a worried look and pretended not to notice when he started dancing around your questions. But it wasn’t the case this time, this time the kid was there too. And if there’s something Sans knew about you, it was how serious you took everything when it came to your son’s safety.

Even Undyne would feel threatened by those eyes.

Sans gulps, nervously pulling the collar of his t-shirt. “it was a fluke, it won’t happen again. i got this.”

He can’t help feeling cold when your eyes become dark, before you turn back to the cutting board.

“You ‘got this’?” There’s something dangerous rummaging in your voice, something that sends a chill down his spine. “Like you ‘got’ your nightmares? Or is it more like how you ‘got’ your irrational fears?”

“i-i-”

“Oh, I know!” Sans jumps when the knife falls again, breaking the chicken’s bones and making him pale. “Maybe it’s more like how you ‘got’ the way you look at my son like he’s the anti-Christ, hmm?!”

You’re more than mad; you’re fed up with this. Sans’ nightmares have been keeping you awake almost every night, his irrational fear every time your son is close is getting on your nerves and you swear to God you’re going to break someone’s neck if he doesn’t give you an answer soon, because (c’mon!) if he’s going to keep you awake and have you constantly on edge _at least_ he could give you some kind of explanation. It isn’t that crazy of an idea, is i-

When you turn, Sans is trembling in furthest corner of the kitchen, his hands are in front of his chest in a defensive stance, his face furrowed deep in his hoodie. Cristal blue tears are pooling in the corner of his eye sockets.

_He’s crying._

Your anger instantly melts; worry covering every other emotion inside you. “Sans?” You give a step towards him, he tries to step back, the wall getting in his way. A panicked sound escapes his throat.

“s-s-stay away!” His right eye starts burning, blue magic charging the air with static “don’t get near me!”

The first things you do are put the knife down and lift your hands for him to see, taking another tentative step to the front. “Sans, you need to-”

A plate crashes behind your back, at the exact same height of your head and a little to the left. There’s yellow flicking inside the blue, and a cold shiver runs down your spine when you finally understand what’s happening.

“i-i-i said stay away, human!” Sans trembling makes his bones rattle, blue magic bathing everything in the room, knifes included. “o-or,” He stops, a blue flame burning in his hand. Two giant dog skulls materialize in front of you, mouths hanging open. You only got a peek of them earlier, but looking them now, they’re even more terrifying than before, with their void-like eyes and sharp fangs. They look like they could kill you only by falling on top of you.

A white light shines inside their mouths.

“ ** _d o  y o u  w a n n a  h a v e  a  b a d  t i m e?_** ”

Congratulations, you just triggered him a panic attack! Wanna go make some kids cry too?

“Sa-”

This time the plate is aimed at your face, and you need to use your own magic to stop it. Red clashes with blue, energy in form of lightning sparkling everywhere, charging the air. There’s enough magic in that kitchen to power Low Ebott for a week.

“Ok, ok…” You nod and slowly take a careful step back; never breaking visual contact. “I’ll stay here, just like you said.”

You walk back until your hips hit the kitchen counter, and then take a second to contemplate your options. Witch magic has always been stronger than monster magic, subduing Sans wouldn’t be a problem, but who knows what kind of emotional response that could trigger. Hell, who knows what kind of emotional response _this_ is triggering. One second you were scolding him (ok, truth be told, you weren’t scolding him, you were mad and stressed and vented your anger on him) and the next your kitchen was a war zone. What the fuck is this even? A phobia? A trauma? Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?

_Please, whatever god is out there, don’t let this be PTSD._

Your options are starting to narrow on “leave him unconscious right now”, when Max’s voice comes from the other side of the door.

“Mom?”

There are no words to describe your panic. Red lightning fills the air, closing on Sans, the white light inside the giant dog skulls burns brighter.

“SANS?”

If someone measured the amount of time between Papyrus’ call and Max opening the door, they would have noticed that it was, more or less, 0.7 seconds. In that fraction of time, the skulls disappeared and all the magic in the room evaporated.

“What is it, sweetie?” Your smile was perfectly natural, practiced in front of a mirror at least a thousand times over the years.

“sup, bro.” Sans had a carefully relaxed pose, lazy smile and hands inside his pockets.

It was like nothing happened.

“I just…” Max looked around, frowning confused. “We heard…” You smiled at him patiently, and he sighed, playing with the hem of his red sweater. “It’s nothing…”

It hurts; lying to Max always hurts, but you’re not sure what else you could do. Try to explain what happened? How? You don’t even understand it yourself.

Frisk makes their way from behind Papyrus legs, raising their hands to start signing.

_‘We heard something crashing and got worried. Is everything okay?’_

Sans takes a step to the front, your body immediately tensing as a reflex, red sparkles in your hands. You feel like a trapped animal in that kitchen. “it’s nothing, kid; red here just broke a plate.” He shrugs.

It’s nothing?

_It’s nothing?_

This was many things; a disaster, a problem, something that must be cheeked by a psychologist and receive therapy. This was an experience you didn’t want to repeat.

 “right?” He smiles, and his eyes beg you to drop the subject.

This _wasn’t_ “nothing”; this wasn’t even close to it. You shouldn’t let it slide.

“Yeah…” But you want to. “Just a broken plate, sorry to scare you, guys…”

You smile apologetically, and pretend it’s nothing…

_… for now._

* * *

“Papyrus can you pass me that bowl?”

It’s almost nine o’clock, everyone already had dinner and you’re working on the preparations for the ritual. You’re baking Max’s favorite chocolate cake and Papyrus is making puzzles as offerings to the new moon, Max and Frisk are sitting in the counter beside you, making some origami stars; and Sans is sitting in the kitchen table, next to the bowl.

“S-SURE!” Papyrus turns to take the bowl and gives his brother a worried look. It’s obvious that something happened, after almost a week of being inseparable you’re clearly avoiding Sans like he’s the plague, filling the air with anxiety (you agreed to pretend it was nothing, not to forgive him). “H-HERE…”

“Thanks.”

But they’re too scared of your temper to ask. You never get mad, not even Max remembers seeing you like this more than a handful of times.

“D-DO YOU LIKE TO BAKE, HUMAN?”

“My grandmother always baked cookies with me, it helps me relax.” _It doesn’t seem like it’s working, though._ “Besides, everyone in my family likes sweet things.”

“I SEE.” Papyrus looks at Frisk and Max, who shake their heads nervously and make signals for him to shut up. He continues talking anyway. “SANS LIKES BAKING TOO! MAYBE HE COULD-”

There’s a sound like an electric whip cutting the air, your face doesn’t change except for a little twitch on your left eyebrow.

“Good for him.”

Papyrus gulps, turning to look again at his brothers, who just sweats nervously and smiles tightly.

_This is terrifying._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I regreat nothing


	14. New Moon Prayers

“so…” Sans tries to cough his awkwardness away, but you pretending he doesn’t exist is not helping “what are we celebrating, again?”

You don’t even turn to look at him. “Well, I don’t know what _you_ are celebrating, but at least _I_ am trying to celebrate the new moon.”

_Passive-aggressiveness and the cold shoulder? What’s this? High school?_

“new moon, huh? what happened with the old one?”

You recognize a desperate attempt to either make a joke or try to start a conversation, Sans knows how you love to talk about rituals and human history for hours. But today you’re mad, and being mad means that you won’t talk no matter how much you’re dying to give him that half an hour speech about moon symbolism you liked to practice in front of the mirror.

“Who knows...”

Nope, not talking (even when, you know, half of the problem was your fault).

Sans sighs, crossing out in his mind another idea for a conversation, he’s running out of options.

Meanwhile, Max exchanges a worried look with Frisk. You have seen so cheerful lately, laughing and talking with the short skeleton, enjoying yourself like he haven’t seen you do before. Your son might be young, but he wasn’t blind, he knew that you tried to put a good face around him and constantly down-played your loneliness to don’t worry him.

But this last week you seemed livelier and happier, and he knew it was because of Sans (even if he couldn’t understand why Sans seemed to dislike him so much).

“hey, i was thinking-”

“Whoops, need more Wolfsbane.” You take a sharp turn, quickly disappearing behind the basement’s door.

Sans’ shoulders fell almost immediately, just like his hopes.

Max sighs and stops tying feathers to the charms. “The ‘New Moon Rituals’ work as a double celebration for both, the moon that’s coming and the moon that’s leaving.” He explains patiently, for some reason, only when he didn’t acted like a kid was when Sans didn’t seemed to have problems with his presence. “It’s a tradition to share things one enjoys with the moon as offerings, and send your wishes in the form of a prayer.” Max tries to defeat the knot in his throat when he turns to look at Sans. “Mom enjoys moon related celebrations a lot, you should prepare an offering and think of a prayer that would impress her, better if it includes an apology for whatever you did to make her mad.” He still doesn’t feel all that comfortable around the skeleton, but you like him, and Frisk likes him, and if the two persons he cares the most like someone, then he can try to do it too. “I-I’ll keep mom awa-way from the ki-KITchen, d-do-don’t wurry.” Which doesn’t mean he won’t get nervous and accidentally destroy the language, like always.

_Guess that explains why the other kids have so many problems understanding him._

Frisk pets Max’s head while the other kid tries to use his red sweater to hide his even redder face, Sans can see his little ears burning with embarrassment. The kid makes a signal towards the kitchen with their head, and Sans quickly leaves the room, not without hearing a last exchange of words between the two kids.

“Why does this always happens?”

“I think you’re cute when you get nervous.”

“ _Frisk!_ ”

* * *

Sans wanted to hit his head against a wall. He was trying to think of a good prayer while baking some cookies (Toriel’s cinnamon and chocolate-chip cookies, to be precise) but he didn’t even know how this celebration worked; the kid’s instructions weren’t really specific. At least he was sure that something sweet could be helpful, even though he wasn’t so sure you would even try something he made in your actual mood. You would probably prefer to eat Papyrus’ puzzles.

“Got a good idea?”

The skeleton almost passed out, Max’s sudden appearance in the kitchen made him jump in place and drop the spoon. The little kid quietly crouched to pick it up, and put it in the sink.

 “i, uh…” Sans has nothing against Max (he hasn’t dared to interact enough with him to do it), but little human kids in stripped sweaters made him a little too nervous.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’.” Max doesn’t really care; he’s used to people getting anxious around him. “What’s that?”

Sans’ brain wasn’t working all that well at the moment, so instead of answering like a normal person, he practically shoves the bowl in the little kid’s face. Max is obviously your son, he has skillfully mastered the art of “Pretending not to notice stuff that will embarrass others” almost as well as you.

“So… cookies?”

“y-yea…”

What do you get when you make two persons that don’t want to be near each other interact?

_An awfully awkward silence._

“I…” Max fumbles with the words, playing with his fingers and balancing in his toes. Dealing with strangers (even if said stranger has been staying in house for a while) isn’t his forte. “I’ll just…”

There’s a moment when they just stare at each other, before Max walks past Sans, quietly mumbling about you asking for something. The skeleton follows the little kid with his eyes, unsure what to do in this weird ambient, when his blood runs cold; Max is using his purple magic to move the kitchen knife closer.

Sans’ breath hitches at the sight of a little kid in a stripped sweater holding a _big_ knife in front of him. In his mind, the kitchen becomes a yellow hallway.

“wha-wha-wha-what are you doin’, buddy?” Blue fire burns in his right eye; Max pulls his sweater collar up to cover his face, trying not to stare at the flames.

“Mom’s going to cut the cake, she needs a knife.” Max’s innocence stands out against the knife’s shiny blade. Sans gulps, his excessive sweat betraying his ‘not-nervous’ smile.

“i’m sure she doesn’t need _that_ knife.” His hands tremble when he takes the knife from the kid’s hands, carefully putting it in the furthest corner he can find, and replacing it with a little, inoffensive, butter knife. “don’t want to be _blunt_ , kid, but i think your mother would appreciate not having you running around with sharp objects.”

Max stares at Sans for a while, a little frown slowly forming in his face. “I’m not a kid…” He looks down and pouts, looking like an angry kitten. “I-I’m mature and responsible a-and…” That over-sized sweater and messy red hair make him look tiny. “And I’m always helping mom.”

For a moment, Sans forgets he’s terrified of children, and pats Max’s head. His hair is soft, like yours, and when he looks up, with those shiny green eyes and that little freckled face, he looks, unsurprisingly, like a normal four years-old kid.

A little, inoffensive four year-old kid.

Sometimes, when his paranoia isn’t taking the best of him, he feels extremely stupid for his irrational fear of your son. “i know, kid.” Having phobia of little kids can be so embarrassing. “i’m sure your mom is glad to have you around.”

Max looks at Sans, more surprised by the sudden affection than mad of being called a kid yet again. In this past week, the short skeleton has constantly made sure to keep his distance from him (as much distance as he could), this is the first time he has willingly touched him. And what’s more, he’s patting him just how he does with Frisk.

It takes Max a while to get his voice back. “I-I…” He’s not used to this; he doesn’t know what to do. “I’ll just…” He clumsily walks to the door, dizzy with all the affection. Before walking out, he turns to Sans and struggles with his words before managing to say, “I-If you make some tea, mom will eat your cookies, she can’t resist having something sweet with her tea.” And then he left in rush.

After that, Sans tried to prepare the tea how you liked it (with tons of honey) and Max spend at least a good half an hour madly blushing under Frisk’s teasing glare while finishing those origami stars.

He would never, ever say it out loud, but he wanted for Sans to pat his head and smile at him like that again.

It felt… warm.

* * *

Sans had to admit it, when someone said something as fancy as “New Moon Rituals” the last thing that came to his mind was “midnight picnic in the garden”. At least he got to soften you a little with his jokes while arranging everything (Ok, he just got to make you smile _once_. But hey! It was something!).

The setting wasn’t anything out of this world, just a blanket in the middle of the garden with some candles holding the borders, the charms you had done earlier today (made of carved stone and feathers, imbued with your red magic) were resting in the corners of the blanket. Max mentioned something about them symbolizing the cardinal points, while he put the smaller charms he and Frisk made in between the others (and Sans noticed for the first time how Max’s purple waves of magic looked almost invisible against your red lightning bolts).

You sit in a circle, Sans tries to sit next to you, only for you to change places with Papyrus. Frisk gives him a nervous look and Max face-palms at your stubbornness; you could be a real bonehead when you wanted.

“Mom.” Max calls your attention, reproaching you with his eyes. You’re never sure if he inherited that face from you or his father. “The prayers, we need to start the prayers.” _And stop ignoring him, you’re not twelve._

You swear sometimes it’s difficult to notice he’s the child and you, the adult. “Right, the prayers…” 

Giving a quick glance to your student and the skeleton brothers it’s easy to notice how nervous they look with this whole idea; maybe ‘prayers’ wasn’t the right word to use. You clear your throat anxiously, there’s no better time for a class in magical history than the present, right? (And what a better way of telling all to Sans without actually addressing him? You are such a mature adult…)

“Well… traditionally the New Moon Prayers are used by witches and warlocks to draw energy from the moon.” You try not to vibrate with all the emotion, it’s hard to believe you’re _finally_ talking about this with someone (not with Sans, of course, it isn’t like he’s your only friend or anything). “In ancient times it was believed that the celestial bodies were alive, thus being called the ‘celestial beings’, and because of that, magic users used to pray to them on special dates to use their powers.” Sans looks truly interested, and you try not to look extra excited about it. “But, the thing is, as time went on, this ‘sacred prayers’ started becoming more and more casual. People stopped wishing for ‘the power to destroy my enemies’ and started asking for a better love-life and health.” You turn to look at your son, his big green eyes shining. Now that you’re acting more like an adult he can let himself be more of a child. “Some of the most traditional witches still use the old prayers, but Max and I play it more like monthly ‘New Year’s Resolutions’.”

Max pipes up, his voice almost as jumpy as his body. “I want to start! I want to start!” He raises his hand, anxiously moving it in the air, and you giggle before signaling for him to go. He quickly puts half of the origami stars in the middle of the blankets (and it’s easy to know they’re all his, they’re blended and slightly crumpled. Max loves handicrafts, even when he has no talent for it). “This new moon I pray to be a better warlock! And get more books! And make a new charm! And more magic classes! And see more monsters! And play with Undyne again! And hear Asgore’s stories! And see Alphys’ lab! And-!” Max stops jumping, turning to look at Frisk and smiling softly. “And for Frisk to be happy with their mom…” Then he turns to look at you, eyes shining with wonder. “And… and to see dad more?”

You try to smile, forcing it a little. It’s the same every month.

“If that’s what you want, baby.”

Sans notices your face and holds from reaching to you, tightly closing his hands around the plate of still warm cookies. Your insecurity is nothing new to him, he has seen you bite your nails and lose sleep because of it.

Anxiety, insecurity, fear…

He thinks you’re so far from him, who just laughs everything off and pretends there’s nothing wrong. You actually deal with your problems, you _try_ to manage them, you do something (anything) about them. And what does he do? Keep you awake at night and repeating “it’s nothing” every time someone tries to help. When he thinks about himself, running away from his life, he can’t help feeling a little sick.

And then he thinks about Asgore, and Toriel, and how they manage to keep living their lives after going through hell and back. He remembers that the first time he met the king, his only question was how a man that had lost everything (his family, his kingdom, his hope) could keep smiling like that, serving tea to a young lost scientist while showing him his flowers, asking how his life was and if he was enjoying the laboratory. Toriel made a similar impression on him, laughing at silly jokes and enjoying every minute with her child, smiling without faking it.

For a long time, Sans thought that you needed to live a long life to achieve that, that it wasn’t wrong for him to just avoid it, that enough time would solve everything. But now that he met you, he can’t help feeling immature by how he’s being dealing with everything until now.

You look so far away from him, every time you manage to hold your ground and pull yourself together. He wonders what one has to do to be able to do it.

He feels so far away from you… like a lifetime, or even more…

“Want to go next, Frisk?”

Sans blinks a couple of times, turning to look the kid beside him. He’s getting lost in his thoughts too much lately…

Frisk nods, putting their half of stars in the middle, theirs look better than Max’s, but you’re sure they’ll never say it. Max holds their hand, even when he’s sure this time they don’t need the extra support to talk. “This new moon I pray for all the monsters to be happy in Low Ebott.” _Such a cute little thing._ “For Miss Fairy and Max to do more magic, for Papyrus to do more puzzles and Sans to see more stars, and…” Their voice trails down, becoming a soft whisper, a little smile on their face. It warms you inside. “And for mom to smile a lot…”

You pat their head, carefully ruffling their hair. “Sounds like a good thing to pray for.”

Their smile can light a rainy day.

“Well, who wants to-”

“ME!” Papyrus’ hand is up in the air, raised so fast he almost made you jump “ME! ME! ME! THE GREAT PAPYRUS HAS A GREAT PRAYER TO GIVE!”

“Okay… go on…” You try to stead your breathing after almost passing to the next life; Papyrus really startled you this time.

Papyrus clears his throat, before placing some kind of paper puzzle in the middle “THIS NEW MOON I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, FUTURE MEMBER OF THE ROYAL GUARD, PRAY TO BE MORE LOVED, AND CHERISHED, AND BE BEST FRIENDS WITH FRISK, THE TINY HUMAN, AND MAX, THE TINIEST HUMAN!” Max’s eyes shine like stars and you feel glad Papyrus is here too. “I PRAY FOR THE WITCH HUMAN TO KEEP TEACHING US THINGS AND FOR MY BOTHER SANS TO MAKE AMENDS WITH HER!” Sans blushes deep blue, debating whether he should try hiding behind the cookies or just teleport out of there. He ends covering his face with his hoodie (and almost disappearing inside of it). “AND I WANT TO PRAY TO SEE MANY MORE NEW MOONS WITH MY NEW HUMAN FRIENDS!”

_Precious armored cinnamon roll …_

Your eyes trail from Papyrus to Sans, who cowers away from your sight, embarrassed. Something twists in your stomach; your anger settled down after the prayers and replaced with embarrassment at your childish behavior. You’ve always wanted to share these kinds of rituals with your students, preparing something they enjoy and sitting outside on a circle, making wishes to the moon.

Sharing the magic with them.

“Well then…” Sans looks terrified with the idea of talking, a nervous smile on his face “I think I’ll go next.”

You can’t help feeling guilty when he gives a shaky breath, you didn’t even tried to hear him after the fight, even when originally you were mad because he wasn’t talking to you…

You let the plate in the middle “This new moon I pray for everyone to be healthy and happy.” _What’s this? The same plain prayer of every month? Is this really what you want to say?_ “To improve my magic and to do well in my work, I…” _You always let Max pray for whatever he wants, why don’t you try doing it for once? Why don’t you let yourself fly a little? You’ve been acting like a child all evening, anyway…_ “I pray for next Saturday’s meeting with the Circle to go well.” _Good, good, speak up, even if it’s just for a while._ “For monsters and humans to get along and enjoy this experience…” _C’mon, go on!_ “For everyone to receive this opportunity with open minds, and believe in a better future, where magic is real…” _Everyone is free to dream._ “And…”

You look at Sans for a moment, your eyes meet and something burns inside your chest when he doesn’t cowers away again.

_What do you want?_

“I pray for my friends to be honest with me.” He looks embarrassed again, hiding from your eyes. But you don’t let him.

  _What do you really want?_

“And I…”

_What’s worth praying for?_

“I…”

His eyes meet yours for a second, and the mist in your mind dissipates.

_Suddenly, the answer is clear._

“And this new moon I want to pray to be the support my loved ones need, and to help them overcome their nightmares.” Neither of you break eye contact, that’s how you notice his eye sockets opening more, a soft light blue shining over the white bone. “And to enjoy many more nights under the stars.”

Everyone goes silent for a moment, just changing their attention between Sans and you, exchanging confused glances without making a noise. Sans’ face is a blinding blue, eyes fixed in yours and hands tightly holding the plate, while you blushed a deep shade of red and bit your lip, wondering if you didn’t go too far with that last sentence. Before the situation becomes even more awkward, Max is quick to push you on starting the second part of the ritual: Enjoying the offerings.

There’s cake, and cookies, and unimaginable amounts of puzzles. You smile at how Max and Frisk fight against Papyrus’ endless hordes of crosswords and labyrinths, they win some battles and lose some others (or, better said, Papyrus gets too excited and explains the puzzles to them). You don’t turn when a bony hand puts a cup of tea near your knee, but you don’t reject it either, carefully taking a sip. It’s warm, sweet and tastes a little like mint. It makes you smile.

“can i pray this new moon to talk with you later?” Sans tries to act casual, but you can see from the corner of your eye how his hands shake in his pockets. “please?” He adventures with a tight, slightly desperate, smile.

You stare away for a while, calmly drinking your tea “We’ll see…”

Nonchalantly, you take a cookie from the plate. They taste like heaven covered in cinnamon and chocolate, but you play it cool.

Sans has to hold himself from teasing you when you go for the fifth one.

* * *

“Well, that was unexpected…” You close the door as quietly as possible, giving a last glance inside your room, were Papyrus, Frisk and Max sleep peacefully on your bed. The three feel asleep as soon as their heads touched the pillow “After all that sugar I was expecting them to give more of a fight.”

“i think it just gave them _sweet_ dreams.” Sans winks, making you chuckle.

A heavy silence takes place, you’re both embarrassed by your previous behaviors, and remembering the things you said during the prayers isn’t helping. You’re biting your lip and pulling the edge of your sweater, trying to gather enough courage to speak.

But Sans beats you to it.

“i, uh…” He coughs in his hand, eyes fixed on the floor “i wanted to apologize for earlier”

“I…” You feel a little ashamed of him taking the lead, but also more comfortable (and that’s weird, you’re used to taking the first step to avoid others the problems, but you’re not going to reject an occasional change of pace) “Me too, I’m sorry, I was being unreasonable-”

“no, you were right, i just had to give you an answer-”

“You were obviously uncomfortable with it, I shouldn’t have pressed-”

“you were just worried for your son’s safety-”

“I was more mad than worried, **and** I made _you_ have a bad time because of it-”

“my ‘bad time’ almost blew up your kitchen-”

“You weren’t the only one getting out of control in that kitchen.” You go silent, just staring at Sans, letting the implications of the situation sink. “Papyrus, Frisk and Max were on the other side of the door, Sans, that _can’t_ happen again.” He nods, the little pinpricks of light in his eyes are almost invisible, his glance casted down, giving him a serious and dark aura. “I… _we_ can’t put them in danger like that again.” You take his skull, pulling it upwards to meet his eyes. “Sans, please, tell me it won’t happen again, tell me my son is safe around you.” You don’t want to admit how desperate you are for him to stay by your side, but your voice betrays you. “ _Please._ ”

Sans feels ashamed, ashamed of his lack of control, of his behavior, of pushing you to this point. But more than anything, Sans is ashamed of how dependent of you he has become, how much he needs to see your smile in the mornings, hear your singing while making dinner, talk with you in the living room over a pile of forgotten books and papers with strange symbols.

You are his anchor to reality. “it won’t happen again.” The only thing he has to remember this isn’t some cruel dream that will end with him waking up in Snowdin. “trust me.”

You hug him, tightly pressing him against your chest, resting your chin on the top of his skull and holding down the tears. Things are fine now, there’s no need to cry.

“Thank you…”

“no.” He returns the hug, closing his arms around your waist, almost letting you without air. He needs this, he needs you, he needs to know he’s not going back to that hell. “thank _you._ ”

Once you are sure your feelings are under control and you are not going to burst into tears and scare him, you take a step back, still holding Sans’ shoulders, incapable of letting go of him for now.

“I…” You scratch the back of your head, feeling a little anxious. “When I started living with James, before he became a member of the Circle and got all obsessed with his job, we had this ‘Early Breakfast’ thing where I just woke him up when I couldn’t sleep and asked to ‘have an early breakfast’, he made something like pancakes or just tea, and sat with me in the kitchen until I was fine again… It was a good tradition…”

You don’t hate your ex-husband; you don’t approve of many of his opinions and you’re definitely not marrying him again, but he was there for you in some of the darkest moments of your life (when breathing was hard and even getting out of bed was a feat, when more than ‘meaningless’ life felt like an empty, useless void). He helped you stand on your own, and taught you to fight for what _you_ wanted; even when it meant divorcing him (you have always thought that he was actually a little proud you did it). He couldn’t be the kind of lover you wanted, but he would always (no matter how mad he made you sometimes) be a good friend.

And you wanted to be that same kind of friend too, even if sometimes your temper got the best of you.

You wanted to be someone people could rely on.

“I won’t make more questions, unless I feel they’re necessary.” Sans flinches, he _really_ doesn’t want to tell you about the things he has seen. “But if you ever feel like you can’t sleep or you need some company, I’m always in for early breakfast.”

Your smile has a soothing effect in his Soul, the soft static sound of the magic running in your chest is relaxing. “i’ll take your word then.” He smiles, it’s a little, mischievous smile. “but i’ll be the one making the pancakes, yours are too plain.”

“ _Excuse me?_ ” There’s a big smile on your face and a little glint in your eyes. Your chest feels light again.

“you need to add somethin’ more, give them personality.”

“ _Oh_ , so now we’re giving personality to pancakes?” You open your bedroom’s door, letting Sans step inside first. “Want me to get them some sunglasses and ‘cool dude’ shirts?”

He chuckles, kicking his pink sleepers off and throwing his hoodie to a corner, quickly making his way inside _your_ bed.

“You’re supposed to take your brother to your room, y’know?” You ask in a hushed whisper.

Sans doesn’t move. “too much work, too lazy to do it.”

“Then at least don’t go hoarding someone else’s bed, I want to sleep.”

Sans opens an eye socket, smiling like he was about to prank you. “alrite.” He moves just a little, giving you enough space to try getting comfortable. “but you get the middle this time.”

You protest, but end up with Max and Frisk cuddling in your arms, while Papyrus big arms hug everyone in place. Sans scoots closer to you, hugging you from behind, nuzzling his face against your hair, breathing in the relaxing scent of the aromatic herbs that take him to a peaceful dream, in a garden full of white flowers under the stars’ light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love these two dorks...


	15. How to babysit (a magic child) for dummies

 “Open your mouth.”

“But-”

“Maxwell Williams, open your mouth _now_.”

Max knows to fear the times when you use his full name, and opens his mouth against his will. Your brow furrows.

“That’s it; you’re not going anywhere today.” You state, standing up again.

“But I don’t even feel sic-” Max has to stop to cough, taking all credibility from his argument.

You give him an unamused glare. “Go upstairs, I have to call the school.” Sans and Frisk share a worried look behind your backs.

“Mom, I’m fine, _really_!”

“You know the rules, upstairs.”

“ _Mom!_ ”

“ _Upstairs._ I’m not saying it again, Maxwell.”

Max clenches his fists, purple magic sparkling from them; and, with some tears of frustration shining in his eyes, he stomps his way to the second floor. You sigh when the sound of his door slamming closed makes the house tremble, but Frisk and Sans are far from being as calm with the situation as you are.

“Miss Fairy?”

You turn to look down; Frisk is battling with their unreasonable big sweater to show their hands.

There are three moments when Frisk doesn’t speak with their voice: When there are too many persons in the room, when they don’t feel comfortable around someone, and when they are feeling anxious.

‘ _Is something wrong with Max?_ ’

This time, it’s because of the third one.

_It’s too early to have all this trouble._

“He’s fine, just a cough.” You pat their head in a way that you expect to be reassuring. “No biggie, but I prefer to stay on the safe side.” Taking your phone out you start listing options, “I’ll just call Elena and tell her to-” You facepalm midsentence, cursing in Ancient Latin. “She’s out of town, on her son’s college graduation…” You sigh again, half sitting on the dinner table and almost making a pile of old books fall. “Maryon’s still here, maybe she and the assistants can manage controlling three classes— _but she they can’t because the little kids have a trip to the neighbor town’s farm today._ ” You close your eyes and pinch your nose, another long sigh leaving your lips. Sans stands up and starts to massage your shoulders, he has seen Papyrus do that with Undyne before and apparently it clamed her down. “It takes almost a month to get all the papers in order, we can’t reschedule it without moving summer vacations a week.” Blue magic starts to spread from Sans’ phalanges, running in spirals over your shoulders, somehow relaxing them. “I’ll just cancel classes”

You look pretty stressed with the situation, and Sans knows that you plus stress is a combination for disaster. “hey, wanna hear a joke?”

You raise an eyebrow, cautious. “Is it a good one?”

“what did the skeleton said when an army invaded his country?”

You’re already half smiling; he has that stupid smile again. “What?”

“we’re boned” You snort, trembling with silent laughter and shaking your head, while Frisk covers their mouth and giggles. Sans is always happy to help you left your spirits. “why aintcha lettin’ the kid go, anyway? it’s just a cough, it’s not gonna kill him... is it?” He asks, slightly dubious, his knowledge of human medicine isn’t that extensive.

You let out an exhausted sigh, throwing your head back. “Magic users’ immune systems suck.” You state, Sans looks at you confused and knowing what he’s thinking is pretty simple. “Magic does all the hard work, but until it gets to that point kids have a hard time with sicknesses and wounds.” You explain with a half-smile, half-frown. “Now it’s a cough, but give him an hour outside and it’ll be a cough, a fever and a running nose.” Standing up, you smile at the less worried Frisk and Sans while scrolling on your contact list (it isn’t that big, anyway). “Sorry for the bad time guys, I’ll call Maryon, tell her to send the kids back home…”

“it’s okay, pal, not every day can be magical.” Sans gives you one of his lazy, strangely reassuring, smiles; when an… _unexpected_   idea pops in his head. “i could watch him for you.”

The Earth stops spinning for a second, the ocean stops moving, the wind stops blowing and every creature on this godforsaken planet stops breathing to look surprised at Sans. Frisk can’t believe their ears, Sans is willing to _do something_ , he’s willing to look over your son, the kid that (for unknown reasons for everyone that’s not a time traveler)  scares the living hell out of him, just to save you the stress of canceling a class.

What timeline is this? What parallel universe is this?

_Please, be one with dragons._

“You want to look over Max?”

“if it helps…” He says, a smile on his face and sweat in his forehead.

You’re having troubles processing this, when your subconscious whispers a word in your ear and everything suddenly seems clear. _Guilt._ “Oh, Sans, I’m fine, you don’t have to-”

“but i want to.”

Sans looks determined to do this, and you know that it’s not good to discourage people when they are trying to take on responsibilities, but that’s not an argument to let someone you know has problems communicating with your son babysit him.

_Maybe you should just stay…_

“I think Sans can do it!” Frisk pipes from behind you, making their way to the skeleton’s side and looking you right in the eyes.

You have a little kid and you have been working with children for almost a year, you’re pretty much immune to the “kicked puppy face” by now.

But, sometimes, it still works.

“Fine.” You sigh, defeated. Frisk jumps, clapping. “But I’ll be calling every hour to check on you.”

Sans has a cellphone, Max has a cellphone, and (if he really just went to present his report to Undyne) Papyrus should be back before lunch.

“Lunch’s in the oven and there’s enough lemon tea for an army, there’s an inhaler in almost every drawer, and whatever you do, don’t let him get near the basement.” You take Frisk’s hand, walking to the door. “Call and I’ll come running.”

“we’ll be fine.”

“You’re sweating too much for me to believe you.” Taking a deep breath, you open the door. “Later, Sans. Good luck…” And, after thinking for a moment, you add a gentle, “Thank you.”

_How bad could it go?_

* * *

Sans spends fifteen minutes sitting in the living room, staring nervously at the stairs. No matter how mad you were the other day, you were right, Sans was evading his problems and causing _you_ troubles because of it. As soon as he found a way to make it up for you he took the opportunity, without really thinking about it. Now here he is, alone with a kid that can make things explode with his mind.

_This is a bad idea._

Taking a deep breath and facing the problem he got himself into, he goes upstairs.

Let this day begin.

* * *

“I know you’re there.”

The kid nonchalantly calling him out from the other side of a closed door before he could even knock did no good in soothing Sans’ nerves.

_It’s okay, you did that too on a normal basis. Magic users can feel big fields of magic, monsters are made of magic, this isn’t new to him._

Max opens the door just a notch, enough to peek outside. “Why are you here?” He asks with a frown. “Where’s mom?”

Sans swallows his anxiety and does the only thing he knows to do when he can’t handle his problems: smile and pretend nothing is wrong. “she took the kid to school.” He says, and tries not to tremble when Max narrows his green eyes. “looks like it’s just you and me, buddy.”

There’s a long moment when they just stare at each other, and every second of silence Sans becomes more and more nervous. Those big eyes (so similar yet so different from yours) silently judging him, and the soft roaring of magic running inside his little chest.

Dangerous magic.

_Even more dangerous than a knife._

After what seems like an hour (but it’s just a little more than two minutes), Max relaxes his frown, changing it for a bored (almost disappointed) face, and moves away, leaving the door wide open for Sans to enter.

He hasn’t been in the kid’s room since that Saturday, almost two weeks ago, when he found that old scrapbook (and spent an evening under the stars for the first time in his life with a witch that couldn’t stop laughing). It doesn’t look that different, the little bookshelf, the box of toys, that big wardrobe where even Papyrus can hide, the purple bed…

Sans is used to seeing this room from the hallway (or from your bedroom, sometimes), catching glimpses of the kids and his brother playing inside, laughing and jumping and enjoying themselves with the impressing collection of toys your son has.

Today, however, with Max quietly sitting in his bed, reading an old leather-covered book, it felt rather…

“What did you do?”

_Empty._

“what?”

“What did you do?” Max repeats his question, and after a couple of seconds of Sans staring without understanding, he rolls his eyes and sighs. “To make mom mad. What did you do _to make mom mad_?”

“i, uh…” Sans contemplates the idea of sitting in the bed and immediately crosses it out. “i didn’t make her mad…”

Max closes his book and moves to face Sans, his whole attention centered in the skeleton. “Then why are you here?” He asks, quickly adding, “Why did mom ground you too?”

Sans shrugs to hide that second he struggles with his voice and says, “she didn’t, i offered to do this.”

The child’s eyes become even bigger, opening with surprise. “But… _why?_ ” Before Sans can say anything, Max adds, “I _know_ you don’t like me.”

There are a lot of bad things one expects to hear in their life; “You’re fired”, “Pop quiz!”, “Season finale”, etcetera. However, a four year-old saying completely sure of himself “I know you don’t like me” isn’t one of them.

_And it should never be._

Sans mind is blank, completely and absolutely blank. Too surprised after hearing that, he just answers in automatic. “i … just wanted to help her.” He feels a little dizzy. “she’s always helping us...”

Max’s voice reaches an unexpectedly high pitch. “And she just _let you_?!”

Sans blinks slowly, this situation is becoming progressively weirder as time goes on. “yeah…”

And then it happens, Max brow furrows deeply, his mouth becoming a thin line, and his eyes shine with a different light, before doing a sharp half turn and giving Sans his back. Soft waves of purple magic float around in a seemingly “threatening” way (“threatening”, because they are almost transparent and look more like glitter).

“She would never let dad watch over me…” Sans has hear you say more than once that you could leave the magic society’s destiny in hands of your ex-husband, but wouldn’t let him take care of a cactus (something about his inability to get away from work for more than half an hour). “She must like you a lot…” Max says dishearten, without turning. The purple waves dissolve in the air, while his little shoulders fall. “Everybody likes you a lot…”

There’s a long, painfully long, silence, when Sans just stares at the child’s back and tries to process what’s happening.

It’s like this is the first time he has seen your son.

Max, the extra cheerful lost bullet that could spend hours talking non-stop, is facing a wall, lonely reading in silence. He could easily be mistaken as another toy if it wasn’t for the occasional arm movement went he passed a page.

_Fear or not, this is wrong._

Taking a deep breath, Sans steps to the front, memories of previous conversations with you flooding his mind.

_“He’s a good kid, but I wish he wouldn’t get so anxious.”_

_“Sometimes I think he’s too smart for his own good.”_

_“I’m glad Papyrus and Frisk are here, magic kids tend to be lonely.”_

_“You should try and talk with him, I’m sure you two will get along.”_

_“It’ll be great if you could get along…”_

_“Can you stop please ignoring his existence?”_

_“He’s not going to eat your soul, y’know?”_

_“He’s a good child, just give him a chance.”_

_” **Please**.”_

Max yelps when Sans pats his head. “don’t worry, kid.”

Sometimes being scared of children is embarrassing, sometimes it’s a little depressing.

“everybody likes you a lot too.”

Sometimes Sans forgets he’s not the only one affected by it.

“Everybody except _you_.”

_This isn’t one of those times._

“that’s not true.”

“Yeah, sure...” Max’s face says he’s about to cry, and that he doesn’t believe a single word from the skeleton. “They like you more, anyway.” He mutters, pushing Sans’ hand away and turning back to his book. “Papyrus and Frisk are always talking about you, mom smiles more when she’s with you, everybody’s happier around you…” Max looks defeated, tears pooling in his eyes. “I’m the only one ruining the picture… again…” He cleans his tears before Sans has time to touch his shoulder, and burrows his face in the book. “You can stay here, if you want; mom’s calling soon, anyway, she’ll want to check I haven’t tied you and escaped or something.”

Just in that moment, Sans’ phone starts ringing with an amazing timing. Max peeps from behind the book.

Of course, it’s you on the other side. “Hey!” There are children voices on the background and you sound slightly anxious. “Just wanted to check on you, how’s everything? Is Max fine? Are you fine? The house isn’t burning yet?”

He vaguely recognizes your attempt of a joke and chuckles, trying to at least keep his cool on the phone. “yeah, we’re doing well. thanks for the thrust.”

Now is your time to laugh, and Sans can’t help smiling when your voice comes more relaxed. “Sorry, I’m a little too worried with this, y’know? Max can be a kinda… _hostile_ with his words when he’s in a bad mood.” He can almost see you biting your lip. “I swear he means no harm, he’s learning to express better, it’s just-”

“hey.” Sans stops you before you can go on other of your Oh-my-God-I’m-such-a-bad-mother-I-don’t-even-know-what-I’m-doing rants. “it’s fine, witch-mom, i know my way around kids, who do you think took care of paps since he was a hyperactive babybones?”

You sigh, smiling softly. “Yeah… you’re right. I just… wanted to know if you could handle this.”

“i can, don’t worry.”

“Ok… thanks again, call you later.”

“later.”

He hangs up with a smile… just to come back to reality and find Max glaring holes in him, before digging his face back into the book.

Sans tries not to panic internally, and fails.

_He can’t handle this._

* * *

Two hours and half a joke book later, Sans is running out of ideas. All of Max’s answers are either monosyllables or vague acknowledgment noises, and the silence is starting to get under his (figurative) skin.

“so, uh…” He clears his throat, smiling nervously. “what’s that book about? learning a new magic trick?”

“Summer rituals” Max answers without turning. “Mom said I can participate of the Summer Solstice this year.”

“sounds int-”

“There’s no need to pretend you want to talk with me.” He says; eyes fixed on the page. “Just wait until Papyrus comes back and pass the torch to him, it’ll be easier.”

Max sounds hopeless ( _“Just give up with me”_ ), and you have to be a particular kind of person if seeing a kid sadly play with the corner of a page while, once again, affirming you don’t like him doesn’t move you.

Sans, obviously, isn’t cold enough to be that kind of person, because he scoops closer and pats Max’s head.

The child stiffens. He’s used to just two male adults giving him any sign of affection, one lives in the city with his grandmother, and the other spends 90% of time working, none of them are really present in his life anymore.

“listen, kid.” He doesn’t know what to do when Sans gets close, so he just stays quiet and holds his breath. “i know we started with the wrong foot, but i don’t hate you, alrite?”

“Of course you do.” Max doesn’t even blink while saying it, and that makes Sans feel worse. “I’ve seen how you look at me, I’m not blind.”

“it’s not… i…” He doesn’t want to talk about this (he doesn’t want to talk it with you, he doesn’t want to talk it with Papyrus, and he definitely doesn’t want to talk it with your son), but he needs to say something before completely losing the kid. So he does the only thing one can do in this kind of situation. “look, i’m going through some complicated stuff, and i’m not good dealing with it.” _Tell the truth._ “i’m trying, but some things just don’t work by magic.” Max turns and faces Sans for the first time. He still looks unamused, but his lips twitch for a second, and Sans takes that as a victory, feeling more confident. “i’m sorry for how i made you feel. i’m really, _really_ sorry.”

Max has learned a lot of things from you, some of them good, some of them bad. One of the bad things, for example, is to stay mad more time than necessary, just for the sake of it.

“Okay…” And, just like you, he can’t do it without feeling guilty half way through. “I’m sorry too… for saying those mean things…”

Suddenly, Max opens his arms in the universal sign for a hug and, once again, returns to be just a little boy. Sans doubts for a second, a voice in the back of his head telling him not to let his guard down, before moving forward to accept the embrace.

Max’s arms are short, just long enough to close around his neck; and, while returning the hug, Sans notices for the first time how small the child is. He’s smaller and thinner than Frisk, sickly, delicate…

He feels … _tiny_ in his arms.

And Sans holds him tight, even when a voice in his mind tells him to run away, whispering all the ways in which this could go wrong, how this is just a trick and the kid is going to backstab him as soon as he lets his guard down. But he doesn’t let go, he needs to do this, to prove you, the kid, himself and _everyone_ that he’s no slave of his fears; that what happened in that kitchen _isn’t happening again_.

He can’t put everything in danger, not now that he’s out of hell.

_Not ever._

“I don’t hate you either…” Max’s voice is soft, muffled by the blue hoodie, and pulls Sans back to reality. “You make Papyrus and Frisk happy, and you make mom really happy.” His little hands clench into fists, like he was trying to hold his tears; little purple waves appearing again. “I’ve never seen her so happy…”

Max is similar to Papyrus when they were kids, Sans thinks, but a little more on the pessimistic side. He doesn’t have many friends, just you and Frisk, and he holds to you as much as he can. It isn’t a surprise that, in Max’s eyes, Sans appeared out of nowhere, stole his mother and best friend’s attention and, pretty much, kicked him aside (even if it wasn’t on purpose).

“hey, buddy.” Sans breaks the hug to look Max in the eye. He fucked things up; now, he needs to fix them. “no matter what happens or who appears, nothing makes her happier than you, ok?”

Max nods slowly, sniffing occasionally, but not crying. “Thanks for being with mom.”

The skeleton smiles warmly. “no problem.”

“She really needed a friend.”

“she told me.”

“She always gives more attention to other’s problems than hers…” Max laughs halfheartedly, rubbing his eye with his hand to clean the remaining tears. “Silly mom, she worries way too much.”

“yeah…” Sans pats Max’s head again, and this time he doesn’t flinch. “she does.”

“Sans?”

This takes him by surprise, Max never used his name before (and that must been a feat, taking in consideration they’ve been living in the same house for almost two weeks).

“what’s it, buddy?”

Max twists the edge of his sweater. “I’m sorry I was mean with you…”

“it’s okay, i wasn’t being that nice either.”

“And I’m sorry I hided your sleepers the other day…” Before Sans can say anything, the kid continues, “And about the itching powder in your hoodie…” Now he’s impressed, where did the kid get itching powder that could work _on a skeleton_? “Just let it in the laundry basket, the herbs will wash away.”

A second, two, three…

When Sans talks again, it’s with a voice Max wasn’t expecting to hear. “you _made_ the itching powder?” The kid blinks confused, before nodding, and Sans refrains the urge to slow clap. “kid, if i had a hat, i’ll take it off right now.”

He’s happy. He isn’t mad or annoyed; he sounds _happy_ , almost _proud_.

Max wasn’t mentally prepared for this outcome.

“c’mon, let’s get you something to eat while you tell me more.” The kid is still in a dazzle when Sans raises him and puts him in his shoulders, excitedly asking questions. “how did you make it? what did you use?”

He wasn’t prepared for this outcome, but he wasn’t going to complain either.

“Well, first of all, it doesn’t work in bones; it’s directly working in your magic.”

“fascinating.”

“I know, right?! There are these herbs in the garden that mom uses to amplify magic power and I thought that-” He stops to cough, making Sans jump a little. “Did mom left lemon tea?” The skeleton nods, and the kids eyes shine like a thousand stars. “Awesome!”

There’s no need to say that, after a warm cup of honey with lemon tea, the conversation went on and on.

* * *

“We’re-”

Papyrus’ gloved hand covers your mouth before you can finish, he’s wearing that frilly apron he apparently loves and cleaning the living room with a duster. He puts a finger against his teeth, signaling for you to make silence, and goes back to his work after pointing towards the sofa. You exchange a confused look with Frisk, before quietly making your way to the object.

You can’t stop the smile when you peek over the edge.

There’s a big pile of books on the coffee table that range from fairytales to advanced astrophysics, and, on the sofa, a skeleton on a blue hoodie soundly asleep with your son curled on top of his ribcage. An old leather book about stars and planets is laying on the floor, next to his hand.

“Y’know, Frisk?” You call to the kid, lovingly caressing your son’s hair. “My mother always said that people fear what they don’t understand and ‘fear leads to hate’ and how everything humans do is hate because they fear everything.” Max moves, and Sans arms holds him tight, the peaceful smile never leaving his face. “But… I want to believe there are more options than just ‘fear’ and ‘hate’ out there.”

Frisk hugs you, and even when they don’t say a word, you know what they’re thinking.

_“Me too”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, dear reader, I can't write angst for more than a chapter. A chapter and a half tops.


	16. Sans Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya!  
> I'm starting classes again this Thursday, which mean that I won't be able to write a lot between the week. Don't worry, this doesn't mean the end of Witchcraft's Weekends, I just wanted to tell you that the chapters will keep being around the 2k~2.5k words, for my mental health ^^  
> Enjoy your fluff, sinners! >:3

It’s Saturday. The last Saturday of the month, to be precise. And that means one thing: Today is Toriel and Asgore’s meeting with the Circle.

_Which means you are the one dying of anxiety._

“Okay, okay, we’ll be back in ten minutes, you know the rules and _yes_ , Papyrus _is_ in charge until I come back.” You crouch to kiss Max and Frisk’s heads, then stand on your tiptoes to kiss Papyrus’ cheek. “No spaghetti until we come back.” You remember the tall skeleton, who blushes embarrassed ( _Wednesday’s’ incident is not happening again)_. Sans gets closer to you and you give them a last smile before taking his arm. “Be right back.”

They wave, wishing you a safe trip, before magic starts cracking all around you, the sensation of your body bending like paper, trying to force its way through the eye of a needle; twisting your stomach. In the blink of an eye (maybe less), your living room becomes the void, and the void becomes a little entrance on the side of the mountain; the feeling of sickness in your gut going away as quickly as it came. Sans’ “shortcuts” weren’t, and will never be, one of your favorite experiences (you’ve told him at least a thousand times that space magic is dangerous, and that he should just use the stairs instead of teleporting, but does he hear you? _Of course not, that lazy bag of bones..._ ), but you must admit they could be pretty useful sometimes.

_They still put you a little on edge, though._

“i know you’re dying to jump my bones, but we should let the ‘indecent stuff’ for later.” Sans winks, and you quickly go from clinging to punching his shoulder.

“The only ‘indecent stuff’ I’ve seen you do until now is empting five ketchup bottles in fifteen minutes.”

He shrugs, making his way inside the mountain with you walking closely. “can’t say i regret it.”

“Dude, _why?_ ”

“the kids dared me! what was i supposed to do?”

“What about not drinking Low Ebott’s supply of ketchup in an afternoon?” Sans turns and gives you a mischievous smile (with wink included, of course). You huff at his reaction, but keep smiling. “You’re lucky the store’s owner likes that kinda stuff. We hardly have electricity, let alone enough condiments to satisfy you.”

He looks proud, like it was some sort of achievement; and you just roll your eyes, trying not to fall with all that debris on the way. Actually, all that dust, mold and general trash brought by the wind along the past two thousand years was making you a little anxious, cleaning was an important ritual for a witch (some warlocks ignored it, but everybody in the Society knows you’ve seen everything when you meet a witch that didn’t do a deep cleaning on her house at least once a week. Even when she had a very tall, very helpful skeleton willing to do it for her) and seeing all this dirt was getting on your nerves.

You slip on a stone step covered in mold, and a bony arm catches you from the waist, pulling you back to your feet. “slow down, babe, no need to fall for me in a place like this.”

“Haven’t considered being that smooth around Toriel, _ladykiller_?”

He blushed to the point of almost looking like a blue torch and you laugh, taking the hand he offers you. Between the jokes and the unnecessary (but funny and appreciated) flirting there has been an actual improvement in Sans’ state. He still had nightmares and got anxious whenever you or the kids got near a knife, but even when he wasn’t talking about it, he was handling it better. Max loved him and followed him everywhere like a dog after spending that day together (which was both good and bad, it meant your son now approved of your only friend and vice versa, but it also meant that now Sans shared your paranoia over Max’s health 24/7), there hasn’t been another “kitchen incident” (or early breakfasts, for your slight disappointment), and he even was willing to help around the house (a.k.a. he occasionally watches over the kids so you can have a moment of peace every now and then).

“We’re gonna need to fix this place…” You comment, squeezing Sans’ hand and trying to focus in feeling the roughness of his bones instead of on how the walls seem to be closing around you. He notices, apparently, because lazy blue spirals start caressing your palm, relaxing you a little. “After this whole ‘Underground City’ thing blows, everyone is going to die to see the Underworld.”

He chuckles, unconsciously pulling you closer when the corridor narrows, his arm around your shoulder to keep you steady (you have healing magic, not ‘anti-clumsiness’ magic). “why would anyone want to come down here when you have a world up there?”

You take a deep breath, admiring the scenery. The air is stuffed and dense ( _ventilation, this place is going to need better ventilation_ ), charged with two thousand years of condensed magic (and it’s no wonder why not even Sans in all his laziness wants to teleport through this place, it _feels_ like a bad idea). There are rocks and pieces of walls everywhere, and it’s covered in dirt; the place is a royal mess. But there are also unique kinds of flowers, and glowing crystals, and _oh, gods, is that butterfly shining like a rainbow?!_

“Why wouldn’t they?” You ask, marveled by the butterfly‘s wings. Sans is too occupied, looking how your eyes grow bigger and shine like those of a kid, to come out with a response. “Do you know that a large variety of plants, animals and minerals suddenly disappeared after the Barrier’s creation?” It’s so you to stop a conversation to come out with a random fact you just remembered, and it’s so Sans to just stay silent and listen, enjoying others’ delight. “Some say that the monsters’ highly magic presence feed normal plants and mutated them, going back to normal once their supply was cut.”

You turn to look at him, and there’s a moment (just a tiny, little moment) when the light falls in just the right angle, making your eyes glow brighter and the crystals shine with a thousand colors while you smile like a child in Christmas…

And he just stares. Amazed.

“Can you imagine it?” You ask, turning around and almost falling. “Can you imagine how the Surface would look if monsters never disappeared?”

He can’t, he has only seen glimpses of the Surface. But he has your eyes, and in them he can see forests that extend for miles and miles, with flowers and trees he can’t even start imagining, and crystals that shine with a thousand colors when the sun rises and sets. And magic, magic everywhere, magic running free. He sees thunder and lightning and waves and spirals sparkling in all the colors of the rainbow and more.

“it would be _magical._ ” He says, softly tugging your hand to keep on walking.

You walk in silence for a while, before Sans gets too worried with your constant slipping and, to your sincere surprise, just carries you the rest of the way (“how do you manage to fall so much?” “These shoes are made to run in a playground, not a cave”). As you go on, you look around and imagine how the path would be after cleaning and restoring, with a little more light and better stairs it could end up being a good attraction (God knows Low Ebott needs tourism… and internet, you’re missing Netflix).

“Have I ever told you how much humans love creepy underground caves?” You ask almost without noticing, more occupied in enjoying the view and free trip. “We also enjoy jumping from bridges just to be saved by a rope in the last minute, and consider poisoning ourselves as a kind of celebration.” A drop falls on your head, and you wonder when Low Ebott’s ‘spring’ (a full week of rain non-stop, if the locals weren’t pulling your hair) will come. Summer was getting closer and closer and you still haven’t seen a raincloud. “My father says it’s because of the adrenaline, but my mother is sure humans just like the ‘I’m about to die’ feeling.”

You feel it, as close to him as you are right now; you can feel Sans’ deep chuckle rumbling inside his chest, making your heart jump and your body tremble while echoing in the corridor. Something warm curls in your belly, past below the skin and directly in your flesh, making you agitated. “humans sure have a _killer_ sense of humor.” You cover your mouth to giggle nervously. There’s something in deep voices that always lets you a little disoriented.

Sooner than expected, Sans takes a sharp turn to the left (making you cling to him _again_ ) and you find a giant double door of stone blocking the way. It looks weird, like it was made yesterday and centuries ago at the same time, old and new. It’s not a restoration, nor an imitation. Looking at it closely, it’s more like a combination; some sort of _fusion_ , like a post-modern artist and an Ancient Rome sculptor met and decided to make a door.

_It’s beautiful._

“Does everything in the Underground looks like this?” You ask, while Sans lowers you carefully.

“not really, just the fancy stuff.”

He waits, looking how you slowly caress the stone’s surface, your eyes getting lost in the patterns and engravings that decorate it. He likes these moments, when you are so interested in something you get lost in it, when your fingers carefully brushing over whatever has caught your eye this time and your mouth opens just a little, enough for your voice to come out in the form a soft exhalation that whispers,

“ _Fascinating_ …”

And then something (he doesn’t know what) jumps inside his chest, like it wants to get out, like it wants to pass through him and go clash against you. And something calls your name, but it doesn’t really calls it, because he never actually hears it, he just thinks ( _feels_ ) like he hears it. And something else calls his name, and hearing them together ( _feeling them together_ ) leaves him with a weird taste in his mouth (which is even weirder, because he doesn’t have a tongue to taste anything right now), sweet, like some kind of dessert (a dessert with lots of honey).

You are done watching the door before Sans is done watching you, and find him dreamily looking in your general direction when you turn, too lost in his mind to notice how you move a hand trying to catch his attention. He looks a little like a puppy, a skeletal puppy.

“What’s up, loverboy?” You ask mischievously. “ _Goat_ a crush?”

Seeing him melt to a puddle of embarrassment before opening the door was priceless.

A bright white light forces you to close your eyes for a second, and the next time you open them, all you see is green and yellow everywhere. The floor of this new room is covered in a thick layer of yellow flowers with vines that crawl over the tiled floor, up the walls and pillars. In the middle on the room, in the only clear space of the flowerbed, there’s a throne. It’s golden and purple, and it looks like no one has used it in many years.

There’s also another piece of furniture hidden by a blanket in a corner, covered in dust.

Toriel and Asgore are in front of it, talking.

“-you should just get rid of it. It has no use anymore.”

“I just… I thought…”

The ambient is rather heavy.

 “Morning!”

They turn, and Asgore looks more than relieved of your interruption. Toriel frowns when he quickly crosses the room and gives you one of those bear hugs that lift you from your feet and make your back crack ( _that explains where Undyne learned to hug_ ), she’s clearly unhappy with the conversation’s outcome.

“Howdy!” He says while putting you back on your feet, helping you keep your balance. “How was your trip? Did you have any inconvenience?”

“Just a lot of slipping, but we’re fine.”

He looks you from a side, and then from the other, like he was searching for injuries. There’s something in Asgore that makes you feel little, a mix between his big fluffy paws and the fact that someone almost two heads taller than you can have the most harmless eyes the world has ever seen.

“It’s good to hear that.” _Asgore Dreemurr, King of Fluffy Bunnies._ “Come, little one, I have a present for you.”

You give Sans a quick glance before following Asgore. The skeleton’s focus of attention had changed to Toriel as soon as he put a foot on the room, and now he was looking at her laugh with those little blue hearts in his eyes again, like the guy wasn’t obvious enough in a daily basis.

“Sans!” You called him before crossing the door, smirking when he turned your way. “Take some acting classes!”

He blushes to the point of shining.

_You’re starting to consider calling this shade “Sans Blue” and making it your favorite color._

* * *

“This is delicious! How’s it called?!”

Asgore smiles over his cup, taking a sip. “Golden Flower Tea.”

You hum, taking a deep breath on the warm floral scent. “Best gift ever, I’m gonna drink this for the rest of my life.”

The taste is refreshing, sweet, and a little bitter at the end. You would prefer it with a ton of honey (“a skele _ton_?”), but taking in consideration this is the first time a tea has made your magic sparkle and filled you with energy in an almost spiritual way, you don’t really mind.

“So,” You take a bite from one of the cookies Asgore offered you (they taste like the ones Sans made for New Moon, but somehow not quite there). “Ready to see The Circle?”

His smile drops and he does that thing of playing with his cup, like he was trying to find a polite way to say he would prefer to be eaten by wolves.

“I… suppose…”

With a comprehensive smile, you pat his broad shoulders. Your hand is minuscule. “Don’t worry, your Majesty, we have Toriel.”

He smiles sadly, eyes fixed on his cup. “She always had the head of a leader.” Something shines in his eyes, an old memory of better times. “I used to stumble and stutter every time I had to take a decision, but she always knew what to do, who to trust.” The air is heavy again, and your brain doesn’t work well when that happens. “She’s better suited for the throne, she has always been.” _Oh, dear._ “If she was the king, then maybe those lives could have been saved…”

**_This_ ** _is why you shouldn’t try to be funny!_

_Now what?!_

“Max can’t wait to see you again.” You end blurting, nervously playing with your cup. “He’s really interested in those stories you mentioned before, about how the monsters made a city underground… and… stuff…”

You end trailing down, awkwardly looking everywhere and panicking a little more each second. But Asgore smiles, a big smile, with shiny eyes that make him look a little younger (a little livelier), and you feel like you just dodged a bullet.

“I’m glad he’s interested in those old stories, he looked like a good child.” He takes a sip of tea, cheerful. “Tell me, how have been the skeleton brothers? Is everything good in your house? Anything I can help with?”

Now is your turn to smile, and it’s no wonder why everyone seems to love the king. Being with him feels like being back home, with your parents. “Well, Papyrus is without doubt the best guest I’ve ever had, and Sans and Max had some problems at the beginning, but after a day together it looks like someone stole my son’s attention.” Asgore laughs in his cup, and you take more of that miraculous tea. “I can’t say I love being in second place, but I can’t complain either.”

The king nods with a nostalgic smile. “Kids sure light everywhere they go; a true blessing.”

“Yeah…” Many people (as much people you knew as people you didn’t know) had told you more than once how bad of an idea it was you got married and had a son at such a young age (and let’s not start with the ones that disapproved your divorce). And they were right, it wasn’t the smartest choice, it made your life more difficult. Your marriage went to hell, you had to work, study _and_ raise a child. You would give Max one hell of a speech if he ever thought of doing the same. “They are.” But you have him, even if it isn’t easy, you _have him_ , and that’s good enough for you.

Asgore carefully takes the empty cup from your hand, putting it in the sink beside his, and gives you a soft smile. “I think we should get going.”

You nod, and disinterestedly take your phone out and check the time; it’s been fifteen minutes since you left the throne room.

_More than enough time for Sans to make a move, right?_


	17. Miss Fairy vs The High Circle of Magic pt. II

“Nothing? _Really?!_ ” Sans nervously looks over his shoulder, making sure Toriel isn’t hearing your hushed conversation. “Why do even I try to give you opportunities if you’re not gonna take them?”

“i-i was trying to, b-but-”

“But what? You got lost in her eyes?”

Sans panic is almost palpable, and he quickly jumps to try covering your mouth with his hands, blue magic flicking in his right eye. “why don’tcha say it louder? i think they didn’t hear you in the core.”

You push his hands aside, sitting on the table. “There’s no need for it, your face is making it pretty obvious already.”

“You’re going to need some cold water for that burn.” Max high fives you from his seat in the dinner table, devouring cookies with Frisk.

Sans rolls his eyes, smiling. “oh, so now you too are against me, kid?”

Max tenses, and Frisk starts shaking their hands in the universal sign for ‘shots fired’. “I’m not a kid!” _Here comes the angry kitten._

“sure thing,” The skeleton has the audacity to challenge your son with a big smile, and you already know what happens next. Frisk does too, because they jump off the table, giggling. “ _kid_.”

Max jumps to Sans open arms and tries to tickle him to death or something along those lines. Sans makes sure to make it as dramatic as possible, twisting and turning a lot until he finally falls on the couch, “begging for mercy”.

“Never!”

It looks like fun, even Toriel and Asgore are laughing (you silently drowning in giggles and snorts), Frisk jumping in and joining the “fight”.

_Too bad life can’t stay like that forever._

There’s a knock on your door, and a familiar voice calls your name. Max stops moving, recognizing it immediately.

“Hey! We’re here!”

Your son beats you to the door, opening and tackling the first person in his line of sight.

“DAD!”

_Call your anxiety, it’s time to go back to reality._

* * *

Toriel is sitting on the couch, inspecting every detail of the Circle’s prototype plan, Asgore and Frisk are looking over her shoulder, nodding every now and then. James is sitting in the armchair with Max in his lap, occasionally having short whispered conversations with Toriel, who just nods and keeps reading. Your son is, of course, acting on his best behavior just for his father (“Max, this is an important reunion. I need you to stay quiet.” “I can stay quiet!” “… that’s exactly the opposite of quiet…”).

Sans is sitting by the dinner table with you, ready to help if necessary but not really thrilled with the idea of participating in another political meeting. You’re playing “Who’s overdoing it?” with the members of the Circle.

“I don’t know, man, madam Fulgore’s cape looks like a 50’s vampire movie prop.”

“it doesn’t beat those forty-six necklaces.”

“There can’t be forty-six-”

“i counted them.”

“Bullshit!”

“’Scuse me?”

A tall, scrawny, guy around your age that seems more nervous than necessary is looking down at you.

He rings a bell, but you don’t know which one.

“I-Is C-Captain Undyne here today?”

Oh, wait! You remember that terrified voice!

“Guard… Edmund?” He nods repeatedly, and you wonder who the hell let this poor guy become a guard and why did the Circle think it would be necessary to have him here today. Probably they just wanted to make it look more ‘official’. “No, Undyne went back to the Underground some days ago.”

He looks visibly calmer, or at least shakes less. “And the… _tall skeleton_?” He asks, worriedly eying Sans.

The comedian has a smile that says “I’m not here to hurt you, but make a wrong move and I’ll do it”, and you elbow him in the ribs before turning back to the terrified guard.

“Papyrus went to get some things from Snowdin a while ago; he won’t be coming back until tomorrow.” Actually, he just wanted to visit Undyne, but he looked so worried about it being impolite that you subtly suggested this as an excuse.

“I see…”

_This poor guy could use a relaxing tea, maybe some lavender._

“You’re Sir James’ wife, right?”

_Or a broken nose._

“ **Ex** -wife, yes.”

Your voice startles the guard, who fidgets with the hem of his uniform and tries not to stutter his answer. Sans, on the other hand, is enjoying this more than necessary.

“A-a-ah, w-w-well, you see, t-t-the other guards refer to you as his wife-” You raise an eyebrow, he panics more. “N-n-not that we don’t know you’re divorced! W-we know everything about the divorce!” He quickly adds, making a couple of heads turn. “I-i-it’s just that, well, t-t-they tend to, uhm, t-t-talk a-a-and stuff, and sometimes t-t-they say things, like, ‘they’ll be t-t-together again in no time’ or ‘she’s still his wife, anyway’ and t-that kind of stuff, and that’s why I-I got used to saying you’re Sir James’ wife, but I know you’re not Sir James’ wife, because you’re divorced a-and…”

Sans holds his laughter while you close your eyes and take a deep breath.

_This guy just dug his own grave and jumped inside._

_Breath, don’t go killing people. Breath._ “Well, they must have their hopes really high if they call three years ‘no time’,” Edmund flinches and Sans snickers, making you give him a pointy look. He shrugs it off and gives you one of his smiles with wink included, like you didn't look like a dangerous animal in that moment. “And they clearly don’t know how a divorce actually works, of course.”

The guard shakes like a leaf.

“I-I-I-I just!— I mean!—” He looks pale, and you feel a little guilty. _Maybe you're overdoing it_  “I-I’m sorry, you see, t-t-this is the first time I’ve t-t-talked with a witch of my generation…” _Oooooh! Right in the empathy!_ “It’s just… I was…”

You give him a pat in the shoulder, trying to be friendlier with the poor guard (after all, he looks like the kind of guy that wanted to be an artist and ended in this position because his father wanted him to be a ‘real man’, and you have a weak spot for that particular kind of poor bastard). “It’s okay, this is a first for me too.”

He seems more comfortable knowing that. And, after doubting for a minute, offers his hand for you to shake. “Guard Edmund. T-thank you for your help last time, miss.” You take his hand, presenting yourself and assuring him that Undyne would never hurt him. He doesn’t look all that sure, but you smile and that seems to do the trick.

From the other side of the room, someone clears their throat.

“Well then,” All heads turn (even the ones eavesdropping in your conversation) to see Toriel taking off her glasses, putting the document on the little coffee table. “I think this will do for now. Don’t you, Asgore?”

Asgore hums approvingly, and the members of the Circle breathe again.

“Now, talking about the details,” The Circle inhales sharply, and you need to elbow Sans again to stop him from laughing. This felt like being in a sitcom. “How exactly do you plan to use culture and religion to make public monsters’ existence?”

The big fishes of the Magic Society start to sweat and exchange nervous glances, while the ex-queen calmly fixes Frisk’s hair.

_God bless Toriel._

“W-w-we already talked with our contacts inside the different religions that acknowledge your existence and our specialist are preparing the historical proves that support them, your Ma-” Toriel gives the old warlock a severe look that makes him shake like a leaf. “-Lady Toriel,” This time Sans is the one elbowing you, if he can’t laugh, neither can you. The guard looks nervous, but doesn’t say a word. “We’ve found a particularly promising group of believers of the Ancient Texts right here, in Low Ebott.”

There’s a perfectly timed knock on the door.

Your ex-husband signals for you to stand still, and Max jumps from his lap to let his father answer the door. Your son sends you an anxious glance, and runs to hide behind you; you wish you could hide behind someone too.

The Magic Society is a closed box filled with more boxes. You know you’re there, and you know your family is there, maybe you even know some other people that are there too. But it’s dark, and you can’t see nor interact with the others, just wait for them to magically find you.

And what’s more important.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry for being late, Sir.”

There’s no way for you to know who else is there, until someone else opens the box and lets some light in.

“It’s no problem, Sister. You are actually quite on time.”

James moves to let in a young woman dressed in a purple dress with long white sleeves and a turtle neck, a golden symbol similar to the Delta Rune hangs from her neck. Your jaw falls to the floor and Sans is the one who quietly closes your mouth, worried at how pale you look.

“Sister Maria?”

She turned, beaming you a smile that makes you want to disappear and walking straight to you. “Miss Fairy!” _They could use your name sometime, you’re not Voldemort._ “You are a part of the Society too? We never knew!” She takes your hands in hers, shaking them vigorously. “We had our suspicions, of course. Sister Celeste always thought that you looked _witchy_ , but, you know, it isn’t polite to go asking that kind of thing.” She smiles brighter, unaware of your inner crisis.

_Oh, gods._

_How did it never cross your mind the possibility of a group of women preaching about the Ancient Texts knowing about magic?_

**_How?_ **

“Such a…” You swallow, silently asking for help to anyone willing to save you. _Do you feel that? It’s the embarrassment eating you alive._ “Such a beautiful surprise…”

Apparently, people still have mercy in their souls; because James quickly answers your “distress signal”, and officially presents Toriel and Sister Maria (who is half a shot of self-control from jumping like a little girl and screaming “Oh, my God!”. But, well, in her defense, not every day you meet one of your messiahs). Max immediately recognizes your need for a hug, and climb to your lap, letting you hide your face in his messy hair and patting your head.

“It’s okay mom, it could be worse.” He murmurs, trying to keep you from becoming a puddle of embarrassment.

Sister Maria is explaining the church to Toriel to the detail, and making you feel more and more like disappearing.

Sans hand squeezing yours pulls you back to this realm.

“you ok, red?” He asks worried, and you muffle something in Max’s hair that could be anything between ‘yeah…’ and ‘a vegetarian menu, please!’. He moves a little closer and tries again, “you what?”

“I just found out that the pictures of the legend I spent hours studying as a child are painted in the local church after, what? Almost a year living here?” Your voice is strangled, and Sans has a hard time trying not to laugh. You look too funny with your blushing face, making a fuss out of nothing. “But it’s okay! It’s okay! Everything is okay!” You raise your hands dramatically, giving poor, almost suffocated Max space to quickly turn and get comfortable in your lap.

Sans snickers at your nervous behavior, taking your hand once again and tracing lazy circles in its back with his thumb.

His fingers felt like bone and flesh, it was nothing like how you expected them the first time you actually noticed it. They were rough, undoubtedly, but rather than the typical stiff and cold image bones gave, his fingers were actually quite warm, and soft, soft and firm at the same time. It was an odd sensation, Sans’ fingers. Sans in general was an odd experience, bones that aren’t just bones, a voice that you could feel inside your chest, and the magic…

Monster magic, _Sans’ magic_ , was a completely new experience. It wasn’t just energy, it was solid, it was _alive_. You could feel it, every time those little blue spirals started running over your skin, like an electric current, inside your skin, outside your skin, in the core of your own being. Calling for your magic to come out and play, lifting red sparkles from your fingers without your permission (you wonder if this is the oh-so-famous “magic calls magic” that you’ve seen in textbooks at least a thousand times).

It put you on edge, it relaxed you.

It was hot, and it was cold.

Soft and firm.

In and out.

Human and monster.

_Red and blue._

_Magic is just a bunch of contradictions trying to pretend they made some sense._

…

Where was your original train of thought going? What was happening?

“But… tomorrow? Isn’t that a bit too soon?” Toriel asks.

Oh. Right!

You were spacing out in _one of the most important reunions in the history of magic_.

Of course…

Sister Maria starts shaking her hands nervously. “The High Circle told us to prepare everything for your apparition as soon as possible. That his Majesty and you have waited more than enough.” The warlocks and witches shift in their seats, coughing and looking in every direction except the ex-queen’s. “Truth be told, my Lady, our Church’s centenary in Low Ebott is due to be celebrate tomorrow. We thought that it might be a good opportunity…”

Toriel doesn’t look convinced with this, and you aren’t either. A day isn’t enough time to physically or mentally prepare for this.

_On the other hand…_

“Sister Maria has a point, Toriel.” The members of the Circle gasp at your boldness, making you smirk. _How dare you address the ex-queen without honorifics?!_ “Everybody here seemed pretty pumped up with the church’s anniversary; it could be a good idea to do it now.” _Ah, there they are._ The sharp eyes and intense glares, the silent judging and low whispers. _You were missing this, being heard._ “Maybe the current mood is exactly what we need.”

You wait patiently, sitting with your back straight and a knowing smirk. You wait for them to try to take you down, to pick a fight like last time and let you put more of your “hippie ideas” into their plans.

But it doesn’t happen. And every moment the silence lasts, your inner fire burns lower and lower.

And then the conversation goes back to normal. Toriel speaks a lot and James intervenes, the Circle complains and Sister Maria explains the plain with more detail, even Asgore actively participates is the discussion.

The fire burns down.

It takes you a little to grasp your mind around it, especially because you don’t want to, but you can’t run away from it anymore. Now (now, of all times) it’s evident.

_You have no place here._

Your voice is mute and your opinion weightless, your presence, transparent. You have no more value to this conversation than a piece of furniture, you haven’t even been hearing what they were discussing, joking with Sans and spacing off all the time.

You were brought to start a fire, but now that the flame is burning you have no more use in this place. The only reason why you have even been “invited” to this meeting is because this is _your_ house. The second they find somewhere else to do it you will disappear, your spot will be emptied and _nothing will change_.

You’re having a hard time breathing, and you vaguely acknowledge Sans calling out to you, holding your hand while a soft electric current runs up your arm.

But you’re already numb inside.

Why are you making so much drama? Why are you taking it so personal? You started the fire, but they are the ones carrying the torches. Isn’t that what you wanted? Isn’t that what you were looking for?

The monsters will receive help, and you will stay away from the spotlight.

_You will be safe._

_Your parents will be safe_

_ Max will be safe. _

_No adults to hurt you._

**_No witch hunt for you._ **

So why are you suffering? Why does it hurt you so much? You said it over and over again.

_This isn’t your adventure._

_This isn’t your story._

**_You are just an elementary school teacher._ **

You never wanted to get near the fire.

_So why does it hurt so much to go back to the darkness?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I haven't touched Witchcraft in a week...  
>  Ah, being back to class hurts :'3


	18. Lockdown

_It’s a beautiful day outside_

_Birds are singing_

_Flowers are blooming_

_On days like these, guys like you,_

_S h o u l d  b e  b u r n i n g  i n  h e l l_

* * *

He wakes up, the scream never leaving his throat. There’s blue fire everywhere and a Gaster Blaster floating confused in the middle of the room, cold sweat dampening his t-shirt.

The worst thing about Sans nightmares, is that they’re either about him letting a kid kill his loved ones and himself or him _killing a kid_ (not Chara, not a cold blooded serial killer, not even that goddamn flower). When he finds himself in that yellow hallway, arm raised and magic ready, the only other person there is Frisk (opening their little arms like they wanted a hug, without even a stick to defend themselves, acting like they didn’t see the blasters or the bones pointing at them).

The kid is just there, smiling at him like they always do in the many, many happy timelines they have lived over and over.

It almost looks like a good dream.

Until the bones fall and Frisk’s blood splashes everywhere… _again_.

How many times did he kill the kid?

He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t _want_ to remember.

But the memories keep playing in his head, one after the other, timeline after timeline, resets and saves and saves and resets.

Following him, haunting him…

_Y o u  a r e  n o t  a l l o w e d  t o  f o r g e t,_

_K I L L E R_

_M U R D E R E R_

**_M O N S T E R_ **

He gets up, throwing the blankets to the floor and waving to make the Gaster Blaster disappear. Standing in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do, Sans balances his options.

_“If you ever feel like you can’t sleep or you need some company, I’m always in for early breakfast.”_

Your door is closed, but you’ve made sure to tell him and Papyrus over and over that if they need anything, if there’s something you can help them with, they can always knock.

Of course you said that because you believed in their common sense, you expected them to know that waking up someone at 2am to ask where the spoons were was obviously out of the boundaries. They had some doubts back then and you patiently answered all of Papyrus questions (“BUT WHAT IF A GIANT RAINBOW DRAGON CAME BEFORE THE FIRST RAY OF SUN AND THREATENED TO DESTROY THE TOWN?” “You can wake me up then.” “… AND IF IT WAS A GIANT _NON-RAINBOW_ DRAGON?” “You still can wake me up.”), but in the end it was resumed more or less as “if you feel like I should be up, then you wake me up, dammit”.

Sans had problems with that, he wasn’t sure if he “needed” you to be up or just “wanted” you to be up. He knew that if he knocked on your door and told you he had a nightmare you would stay with him (like every time he went downstairs just to find you still awake, finishing some work before going to bed and staying up until _he_ went back to bed), but he wasn’t sure if _another_ of his nightmares was worth waking you up. You had a job, a child and your studies; he couldn’t go disturbing your sleep with his insomnia every night.

 _Especially_ , not this night.

Once again, he just stood in front of your door for a while, silently expecting for you to “magically feel his presence” or something and come out. You didn’t, like all the other times; and he just went downstairs alone, like all the other times. Hating himself a little for waiting deep down in his heart to find you sitting in the kitchen with a book, ready to accompany him through another night without sleep.

But, truth be told, he wasn’t expecting that much. Not after today’s meeting, at least.

Whatever happened to you, whatever made you suddenly disconnect from reality and never come back (not even when everything was over, not even when he went to leave Toriel and Asgore back in New Home), he was sure that lack of sleep wasn’t going to help with it.

At least for once, he wants his problems not to keep you awake.

“red?”

And he doesn’t need them to do it. You’re already awake, sitting in the kitchen counter, with your legs hanging from the edge and a forgotten mug resting beside you. Your eyes look a little glazed.

“Wha…” You blink repeatedly, like you were waking up from a dream, like every other time along the day that someone called for you. “So sorry, sweetie, what were you saying?”

Sans feels a chill run down his spine when you look at him. Your eyes are empty. Even when your smile is kind, your eyes and voice, they’re just empty of any emotion, like your mind had somehow just… _shut down_.

This wasn’t just you spacing out for a while; you had been off for hours, working in automatic.

This was… _this couldn’t be right_ …

“red?” You hum, like you were expecting him to continue; Sans tries not to look as concerned as he feels. _What should he do? What should he say?_ “are you ok?” _What do you need him to do?_

You smile, wave a hand, and completely dismiss his worries. “It’s nothing,” You say softly, pointing at the mug by your side. “Just wanted some tea before going to bed.”

Sans rises the skeleton equivalent of an eyebrow and takes a quick look to the clock.

“it’s almost 3.”

The maximum change in your expression is your mouth opening a little. “Oh…” And you keep that lost look, until your eyes go back to the mug and you murmur, “Looks like I lost track of time…”

Getting invested in a conversation and forgetting your essay was losing track of time, skipping dinner because the book was too interesting was losing track of time, playing with your cellphone and missing the bus was losing track of time. Spending five hours absently looking a wall wasn’t “losing track of time”, it was unsettling.

It was worrying.

Sans isn’t the type of person that knows how to talk about problems. He doesn’t know how to talk about his problems, he doesn’t know how to talk about anyone’s problems; he doesn’t _want to_ talk about any kind of problem.

No. Talking, listening, making people feel better… those were thing _you_ did. _You_ were the one that knew how to calm him after a nightmare, how to make the kids stop crying, how to make others feel safe and at peace.

He doesn’t know what to do. He stopped trying to deal with _his_ problems timelines ago and just recently decided to try again, how the hell is he going to deal with _yours_?

_How is he going to deal with his problems with you like this?_

It was scary when you were mad; you were constantly sparkling and refused to look him in the eyes, he felt like hiding under a rock or just directly disappearing. But at least there was _something_. It was fire, a big, angry fire, but fire in the end. You were burning, but you were _you_. Even in your angriness, he could see _you_ inside your eyes, he could see the fire.

Now, all he could see was his reflection and the remains of a bonfire.

“hey,” He doesn’t know what to do. He knows he wants you back to normal, but he doesn’t know where to start. “what’s wrong?” But he doesn’t need to worry, because you’ll tell him. Like every other time. He’ll ask, and you’ll tell him what’s happening, and he’ll say something that makes you laugh, and everything will go back to normal.

Except it doesn’t.

Because you do the only thing Sans hasn’t seen you do since he got here.

“Nothing, I’m fine,”

You lie.

You smile, and tell a lie.

And that’s it, he can’t handle this.

Because you’ve got mad, anxious, stressed, worried and every emotion in the goddamn spectrum.

But you haven’t lied to him. Not even once. Not even when he wouldn’t blame you if you did. Every time he asks if you’re fine, if there’s something wrong, you _tell him the truth_. The whole point of you two being so close is because you _finally found someone you can tell the truth to_.

If he doesn’t have that, if you aren’t telling him what’s going on in your head…

Then what does he have to solve this? Himself?  _Have you seen his emotion management?_

But he is fixated in doing something (or maybe he’s just too scared of this never ending), so he takes a step to stand in front of you, and takes your face in his hands, making you look him right in the eyes.

He asks “what’s wrong?” in a firm voice, and then he does something that takes you by surprise enough to wake you up.

He says your name. Loud. Clear. He looks at you right in the eye and _says your name for the first time ever_.

You blink, confused and lost, but there. A spark, somewhere in your eyes.

_For God’s sake, you’re there._

And just because of that, just because this is actually _working_ , he does it again.

This time, however, instead of blink like an owl and try to get back to the real world, your mind starts instantly working again.

Which means your emotions do it too.

Which take us to the moment when that thin, thin glass that usually keeps your emotions under control breaks.

In a split of second Sans has his skull pressed against your chest, your arms holding him with more strength than necessary in the most uncomfortable hug ever. Your sob comes out before his question; and in the middle of his confusion, worry, and slight panic, he keeps himself together enough to gently caress your back.

You cry, and cry, and cry like it was the first time in years; letting the blue spirals of magic run up your spine, slowly but surely relaxing your mind.

* * *

“better?”

“Fucking shit,” You complain, using the back of your hand to clean your nose in that unhygienic way you so desperately try for Max not to copy. “I’m a goddamn mess. Fuck, look at my hair, dude! You can’t fix this with conditioner!”

He chuckles, but it sounds a little more like a sigh. “i’ll take that as a ‘yes’”

You smile back at him, and something burns inside your eyes (even if it’s just a little). “Yeah…” The silence grows awkward for a moment, before you overcome your crescent embarrassment and say, “Sorry for… ugh, all of this…” You rub your sleeve all over your face, in an ineffective attempt of erasing the tears. “God fucking dammit…”

Sans takes your hand, stopping you from irritating more your skin, and carefully caresses your cheeks with his fingers, cleaning the tears. You try to dwell in the touch of his hand, letting your head rest on it and closing your eyes. It’s soft, and rough, and warm. And blue. Light blue, glowing behind your eyelids.

Sans blue, the color of uncountable laughs and a starry sky. “Thanks.” A color that makes you feel safe.

“no problem,”

You force yourself to open your eyes, only to find a skull staring up at you. He’s close enough to touch foreheads if you decided to lower your head. At this distance, you have no problem seeing how the bone under his eye sockets is a little darker due to the lack of sleep. A part of your mind keeps getting amazed with how human monsters are (or how monster humans are, depending on how you what to see it) even when they are made of two completely different things.

_Fascinating…_

“What about you?” You ask, still resting your head in his hand.

He tilts his head, smiling. “what about me?”

“Well, you’re awake at...” You move your head a little to peek at the clock, immediately missing the feeling of Sans’ bones on your skin. “… 3:15 am,” He gets nervous, quickly remembering why he went to the kitchen in the first place. “Nightmare?”

He laughs out of nervousness. “does ‘mind reading’ comes in the witch package?”

“I prefer to call it ‘motherly instinct’ and ‘we’ve been through this a thousand times already’.” You answer, moving down those two (maybe three) inches and letting your forehead rest against his. “Care to share with the class this time? I’m all ears.”

His hand goes back to your cheek, your hand mirrors his. “i think i prefer to be the one doing the listening tonight, miss fairy.”

You let go of his hand, sitting straighter to put some distance between you and Sans; laughing all the time. It is a shaky laugh that makes you tremble, but it isn’t a fake one. It’s the kind of laugh of someone making fun on themselves about something unfunny.

“I haven’t had a lockdown in…” You make a vague movement with your hand, before putting it in your forehead and dragging it all the way to the back of your head. “Four? Five years?” You wonder, bittersweet memories coming back. “Not since Max was born, that’s for sure.” You comment with a smile.

Sans inspects your face closely, looking for any sign of a lie. “should i expect it to happen again?”

You smile at his concern, softly shaking your head. You are starting to feel the effects of too much crying. “No, at least not anytime soon…”

He waits for a second, doubting, before nodding slowly.

“can you…” He knows he has no right to ask. He isn’t telling you what’s going on with him; you have no obligation to do it either. “can you tell me why you were… _off_?” But he still feels like he should try, like he should _at least_ give it a try.

You look down, embarrassed. “I just noticed I have no use in this place anymore and this caused me a crisis for which I locked down my emotions as a self-defense action” isn’t the kind of thing you want to say out loud in front of someone you’re trying to offer emotional sup-

_“Hun? What’s wrong? It’s almost 3.”_

_“It’s nothing,” A soft kiss on your forehead, a sigh. “How are you? What’s keeping **you** awake?”_

No. No, no, no. You can’t continue building relationships over lies. Not now, not anymore. Not when you can say the truth without fear, not when you know how it feels to be in both sides of the problem.

No more lies, no more hiding.

Not when Sans asks why you were “off” and he actually sounds worried about you.

_Not when you need to talk._

“Just if you promise not to laugh…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to postpone next chapter because I have too much work, but then Sam Vimes and Terry Pratchett came to me with words of wisdom:  
> “Would a minute have mattered? No, probably not, although his young son appeared to have a very accurate internal clock. Possibly even 2 minutes would be okay. Three minutes, even. You could go to five minutes, perhaps. But that was just it. If you could go for five minutes, then you'd go to ten, then half an hour, a couple of hours...and not see your son all evening. So that was that. Six o'clock, prompt. Every day. Read to young Sam. No excuses. He'd promised himself that. No excuses. No excuses at all. Once you had a good excuse, you opened the door to bad excuses.”  
> And I decided not to do it.  
> There will be Witchcraft next week even if I have to write that chapter during class.  
> So let's enjoy tonight (at least tonight for me), sinners! \\(=w=)/


	19. Early Breakfast

The ambient relaxes a little, and you can feel Sans hand on top of your head, messing your hair.

“i don’t like making promises, but this one can be an exception.”

You smile, relieved.

He won’t judge.

He’ll hear without judging.

You want to believe he’ll do it, that at least this time you are standing over something more than empty promises and sweet words.

 _Your_ empty promises and sweet words.

“Remember that part of the meeting when I said something and they completely ignored me?” He nods, and you bite your lip out of anxiousness. “Well… let’s just say that that hit something more than my ego…”

Sans, sensing that there’s more to this story, takes a seat on the kitchen table (because you both seem to have something against chairs).

You sigh, steeling your resolve. “I…” But, how to say this? How to admit such a childish behavior? “I…” _Nothing good comes from lying._ “I’ve always been a little… ‘revolutionary’, compared to the other witches.” Talk. “I had ideas that they’ll never approve. Taking things less seriously; seeing magic as something that represented us, something we could use to help others, instead of a reason to look down on humans.” Talk to your hearts content. “I had so many ideas of how to _change_ the magic society, how to make it a place where everyone could feel welcomed. Even humans.” Talk until you don’t have more words in your mind. “And I never shut up about them. I was young, and bold, and I would talk about ‘coming out of the magic closet’ out loud without caring for how they looked me.” Talk until your voice goes raw. “But they never heard me.”

Talk all you want.                                                                                                               

“No matter what I did.”

But don’t let lies destroy yet another friendship.

“They just ignored me.”

You take a pause to breath, looking how Sans is handling everything so far. He just looks attentive, nodding slowly, like he was trying to tell you to go on.

And so you did.

“And then I started to go out with James Williams, son of one of the heads of The High Circle of Magic, young promise of the magic society, and my father’s old disciple.” Now he looks a little surprised, and you snicker at his reaction. “You weren’t expecting a hippie witch like me to come from a rather recognized and respectable family, were you?” You laugh when he tries to hide his embarrassment. It’s strangely refreshing. “It’s okay. It’s been at least two centuries since Old Firestarter died, her work is the only reason why my family has any kind of ‘status’.” Sans looks actually quite interested in that, and you smile mischievously “I’ll tell you about it some other day.”

You wink, because, why not? If you’re gonna start talking about your problems and childish behaviors you could at least have some fun doing it. And it isn’t complicated understand why Sans is always joking, life is easier while laughing (even if you shouldn’t be laughing).

“So, I started dating this super important guy and, ‘surprisingly’, my opinions’ value skyrocketed.” You chuckle halfheartedly. “God it was awful, knowing that the only reason they cared about what I thought was because James ‘Golden Boy’ Williams was dating me was…” You shudder more dramatically than necessary, making Sans snort (and wondering how he does that without a nose). It feels a little like the first time you talked with him, when you tried to make him laugh to feel comfortable with yourself. “But I didn’t care. I was sure that after hearing me, after understanding what I was saying, they would open their eyes to the world of possibilities we were missing.” _Oh, such a rebellious young girl._

_Full of fire._

“I was sure I could get to them if they _only heard me_.”

_Full of hope._

“I was so sure.”

 _Full of herself_.

“And, of course, I was wrong…”

You let your shoulders fall with a sigh, your head hanging, looking at the ceiling, while your hands’ grip in the border of the counter becomes slightly stronger. Sans doesn’t move, he just stares, knowing that there’s still more in this story. But his magic moves, willingly or not, and you feel it like a caress running up your arm, a soft electric current.

“They stopped caring after the divorce went through.” And how it hurts saying it; how it hurts admitting the truth. “I decided to take things easier after Max’s birth, I was too reckless, too flammable. I could explode any day and no one knew what the consequences could end up being.”

The temperature in the room drops, and Sans’ body tenses. When you look at him, there’s a blue flame flicking in his right eye. “you’re not talking about…”

The question hangs in the air, making you chuckle at his innocence.

“No. The Circle are a bunch of classy stuck ups, but that’s all. The worst they’ll do is look down on you and pretend you don’t exist.” He relaxes visibly, and your heart clenches. “But there are other people out there” _You want to tell him the truth. You want to lie._ “People that would do horrible things without blinking just to protect their oh-so-pure magic from humans ‘dirty hands’” _You want to tell him a better truth, a happy truth._ “And no one needed to tell me what humans were capable off.”

You want to tell him just the good truths.

_But that’s no different from lying._

“I promised myself that ‘I wasn’t changing’, that ‘this was just for Max’s safety’” You sigh, looking at the garden through the window. You always found relaxing the white flowers that bloomed at night. “I wasn’t forgetting my ideals, I just was ‘toning them down’, ‘making things easier’.” Your mouth feels weird, dense and bitter, like you were eating ashes. “I said ‘I can change the world without putting my life in danger. I am a teacher; my work is to help kids change the world’.”

_Oh, and how you believed it._

“And for a while it worked. For a while I thought that I was doing it, that I was changing the world, making it better.”

_Every pretty word._

“And then you guys came.”

_Every time you repeated “I’m just making things easier”._

 “And suddenly everyone was hearing me. I had the High Circle of Magic in my living room and they _heard me_ , I said what I thought we should do and _now it’s happening._ I was…”

_Every “this is just for Max”._

“I was important again. I was _making a change_ …”

_Every empty promise._

“Until today’s meeting,”

_Every lie you told to yourself._

“That I noticed it once again.” _Ashes._ “It isn’t me who they hear, it’s James. It isn’t me who is making a change, it’s him, it’s them, it’s Toriel and Asgore and all the monsters.” _Dry, bitter ashes on your mouth._ “I’m not changing anything. I’ll never be able to do it.” _Memories of a thousand lies said by your own lips._ “I’m just an elementary school teacher.”

You let the words sink.

Or maybe you don’t. Maybe they just sink against your will, making your chest feel heavy as a reminder of the liar you are. Lying to others and lying to yourself, trying to keep your teenager illusions alive, destroying friendships to protect a secret you more than once threatened with exposing.

 _Liar_ , says a voice in your head. _Liar, you never believed your own words. You just wanted to look good, to “be different”_.

_If you truly believed it, you wouldn’t have lied in the first place._

The air is heavy. Your chest is heavy. _The lies are heavy_.

But Sans’ voice is light as a feather.

“i don’t know how things work up here, what you humans consider or not ‘changing the world’.” And his hands over yours are warm, securing you to reality, letting you breathe with ease. “all that i know, it’s that the person who gave us a warm food and a bed to sleep on when we came out of the mountain was ‘just an elementary school teacher’.”

_It’s calming …_

“the person who put herself in an uncomfortable situation just so _we_ could have a chance up here was ‘just an elementary school teacher’.”

_Soothing…_

“‘just an elementary school teacher’ is the Monster Ambassador’s favorite teacher.” You chuckle, and he smiles up at you. Something warms inside your chest.

_It’s blue…_

“‘just an elementary school teacher’ is the woman who losses sleep between working and studying, but doesn’t mind losing a little more if she can spend time with her son or accompany a skeleton in his insomnia.”

_A bright, sincere blue._

“look,” He takes your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him. Glazed eyes find white little pinpricks. “i know this isn’t the kind of change you were talking about. but you _already made a change_ , since the moment you left us stay here you changed our lives.” The tears slowly appear again, blurring your vision. “i don’t care if the ‘high circle of fancy clothes’ only came because wonder boy called them, _you_ are the one who called him, _your words_ were the ones that started this.” You bite your lip, frowning to keep the tears from falling. You’re overemotional tonight, more than you have let yourself be in a long while, and every word Sans says makes your heart clench. “you’re raising your kid to be a good man, you’re doing your best to help, and every day at work you’re changing those kids lives.”

_Gods you needed this._

You’ve never been willing to say it, but a little part of you always wanted for someone to say this, to approve your decisions, to validate _you._

_Such a rebellious little girl, with fire in her soul and fear in her heart._

_Such a fake little girl._

Sans seems to see the distress appearing on your eyes again (a shadow falling over you while the voices of the past whisper in your ears), because he adds something more, something he wasn’t expecting to say. “there’s this old monsters saying that asgore told me a while ago” He blurts out, trying to keep you with him, to save what he can save. “‘big heroes change the world once with big actions, true heroes change it little by little every day’.”

He does a good job.

The first tear rolls slowly down your cheek; the others follow it shortly after, falling like waterfall.

Your voice is a whisper mixed with sobs and sniffs and curses in more languages than Sans knew existed, but he can hear it nonetheless.

“Thank you…”

* * *

Your breathing relaxes, and you dry your tears once again. Sans’ hands don’t leave your shoulders.

“I’m fine now,” You assure him, but he doubts your words. “ _Really_.”

“you sure? this is the second time you’ve cried in half an hour, is that a thing humans nor-”

You shush him, gently patting his cheekbone. “I’m fine, my mental breakdown is over, stop worrying.”

Sans still has some doubts, but your smile is kind and warm, and there’s red lighting softly sparkling around you, making your hair look even messier. He liked it more like that, as weird as it could be, there was something relaxing in seeing those “dangerous” red lightings again.

“want some pancakes?” He asks, looking into your eyes. He’s too emotionally charged to sleep right now.

You smile, eyes shining. “Only if they have personality,”

He laughs, and you laugh too, and you make an early breakfast while Sans tells you how he met Toriel (“Was that the moment when you feel in love with her or do I have to wait for it?”) and you tell him more of your college/high school adventures (“how do you set fire to a fountain?” “First of all, it wasn’t me…”).

You’re not sure how much this peace is going to last. Probably not long enough, it never lasts long enough. Tomorrow morning you are going to see Toriel, Asgore, and the Circle (and James) again. And you will remember what they mean, what you mean, and your mood will free fall to the floor.

But tomorrow is tomorrow, and now is now. And now, luckily, you have a warm cup of sweet tea, some pancakes and a girl talk with a skeleton.

_And you want to enjoy it, even if tomorrow you’ll just crash and burn in the middle of the festival._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for not answering comments, I love to do it, but right now I have too much homework to be able to dedicate as much time as I want to Witchcraft.  
> Truth be told, it hurts a little ;w;  
> Thank you all for your patience! Hope you're enjoying my weird fanfic :3


	20. Low Ebott Meets Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally finished this three minutes ago, and probably won't have a chapter for next week because my exams start this Thursday ;w; (yes, Thursday. Not Monday like normal people, they start a Thursday and end a Wednesday ._.)  
> Enjoy :3  
> Edit: Oh, and I didn't even notice, but, Happy Chapter-sarie 20, Witchcraft! ^o^

“Mom.” You lazily open an eye. Max is standing in front of you, he looks like he just woke up and is about to doze off again, his stuffed toy (a red T-Rex called T-Eddy, of course) tightly held in his arms. “Papyrrussh camn back.” He sounds like it too, blinking a lot to keep his eyes open. “Brought goats too, opened door, they’re down shtrairs, he’sh ficshing shturuff”

You look at him for moment, Max was one of those kids that didn’t said a word until he was capable to drop a full sentence, so you’re not used to decoding what he says. “Fixing? He is ‘fixing stuff’?”

“Dat.”

Silence.

“Max?” He hums, balancing in his little feet. “What time is it?”

He looks at some point above your head, like he was answering a particularly difficult question. “Early?”

 _God help you, he’s the cutest thing ever_. “C’mere,” You raise the sheet and he climbs the bed, curling against your chest like a cat.

You hug him, pressing a kiss in the top of his head and ruffling his already messy red hair. The hand in your waist (the one you’re already getting used to) lets go and moves to Max’s back, pressing the two of you against a solid, warm chest, blue magic relaxing your muscles and a deep voice lulling you back to sleep when it hums. There’s a lot of noise outside the door, but you don’t mind.

“BROTHER! I BROUGHT YOUR CLOTHES!” Papyrus loud voice comes from the hallway, Max scouts closer to you to block the noise, someone sleepily grumbles in your neck “SANS?”

There’s a sweet moment of silence, before someone throws the door of your room open. It sounds like a meteorite crashing in your house.

“WITCH HUMAN!” Papyrus comes inside, hands dramatically holding his head in distress “MY BROTHER HAS DISAPPEARED! WE NEED TO START SEARCHING FOR HIM! WHO KNOWS WHAT COULD HAVE-!”

He stops after noticing that Sans is sitting in your bed, startled by the sound and still a little sleepy. He’s hugging you and Max close, the little kid hugging T-Eddy and trembling in your arms, you trying to cover most of your son, hiding him from any possible danger. The scene looks out of a sitcom.

“I…” Papyrus doubts for a second, an orange blush shining in his cheeks “I’LL GO MAKE BREAKFAST!” And then he rushes out of the room.

No one moves for a while; confused, stunned and still a little sleepy as you are. Max quickly gets annoyed by the uncomfortable hug, shoving your arm away and jumping out from the bed. He walks to his room, muttering something about getting more sleep. You just stay sitting on Sans’ lap until your brain starts working again.

A couple of seconds later, Papyrus’ voice booms through the house again.

“I AM SORRY, YOUR MAJESTY, MY BROTHER AND THE HUMAN ARE, UH, BUSSY AT THE MOMENT.” A pause. “NO! THERE IS NO NEED TO GO UPSTAIRS! THEY CAN HELP THEMSELVES!”

You knew sleeping together was a bad idea. But, damn, it was comfy…

“THEY AREN’T DOING ANYTHING BAD! I SWEAR!”

Poor Paps, he sounds so distresse-

“THERE’S NOTHING WRONG WITH HUMANS AND MONSTERS HAVING THAT KIND OF INTERCOURSE, AFTER ALL!”

_…_

_God dammit, Papyrus…_

* * *

Explaining the situation to the monsters is easier than expected. Apparently, “that kind of intercourse” was just sleeping together, and Papyrus’ embarrassment was more surprise than anything. You should have expected it, actually, monster “sex” (if they even called it that) must be something completely different from human sex-

“It looks like someone had a _tough night_ , hmm?”

… or maybe it isn’t.

Your magic blinks for a moment, like a shortcut, making the plates and cups tinkle in the air. Toriel looks surprised by the sound, but still manages to keep her smug smile, nonchalantly taking a cup and a plate from the line that flies beside her and preparing some tea.

“We fell asleep while talking, that’s it.”

“Oh, I bet that’s it.”

You put the knife down with more strength than necessary, and she must be getting used to you, because the red sparkles flying everywhere doesn’t seem to impress her.

“Well, why don’t you tell me how was your night, _your Majesty_?”

The smile falls from her face, being quickly replaced by a sour expression. She turns to her cup, angry murmuring something you don’t understand, you go back to cutting the pie, biting your lip to hold your laugh.

“Well, at least you seem to be in a better humor now.” She says, anxiously playing with the spoon. You stop once again, turning to look at her. “I… Asgore and I were worried for you yesterday; you seemed to be a little… _off_.”

_Off._

A little bubble of guilt starts to grow in your chest. Knowing that your childish behavior worried Sans was bad enough, but knowing that it also made Asgore and Toriel worry was even worse, specially taking in consideration that it was _just before one of the most important days in the history of magic_. The last thing you needed was for them to lose sleep too.

“I’m fine now,” You answer, unnecessarily fixing the tray. “Don’t worry…”

Your voice must warn her about not asking more, because she quickly changes the subject to Frisk and how has the kid been doing with school. You go back to your teacher mode almost instantly, making a short recap of Frisk’s general development in the classroom before entering in details. You talk about their problems with math and how you’ve been tutoring them, about their particular interest in fairy tales and adventure books, your shared love for history and their unusual tendency to act as a mediator in any kind of conflict. Toriel seems really approving of their behavior in general (especially of the last point) effusively nodding while holding that cup of warm tea in her hands, still untouched.

 “Aren’t you gonna drink it?” You ask, taking her by surprise.

“Excuse me?”

You point to the cup, lifting the tray with a red lightning. “The tea, you’re not gonna drink it?”

For a second she looks embarrassed, before shaking her head and pushing it towards you. “No… no, not really, want some?” She offers with a smile.

You take it without saying a word, opening the kitchen door with more magic while taking a sip. It lacks on honey, but the taste is familiar, filling you with energy.

* * *

“I want cotton candy!”

Max pulls you to the closest stand, and then to the next one, and to the next one.

You’ve never seen the streets of Low Ebott so full of life. There’s people everywhere, walking down a road of flower arrangements and paper ornaments. The Delta Rune hangs from every door, and the people come and go, tending to little stands that offer free food and handmade goods.

Everyone seems to love the celebrations.

You were a little worried when the young guard came earlier to take Sans and the others to the church (you were especially worried because they were going to use a “shortcut”, but there weren’t any better options), knowing that the big moment was getting close triggered your characteristic anxiety back, and you started to think in all the ways things could go _terribly_ wrong.

But seeing the situation now, you feel that you were over-reacting a little.

 “Mom! Look! Look!” Max jumps, pulling the edge of your dress. “They have seashells!”

You laugh, following your son to the little stand, seeing how he starts dropping random facts about seashells to the woman tending to it, who just nods with a big, understanding smile. Some of your students walk by with their families, stopping to greet you with hugs and kisses while (unsubtly) their parents try to let them with you.

Sometimes convincing the parents that a teacher is not a fulltime babysitter is complicated.

“Enjoying the fest?”

James’ voice makes you jump. He’s standing behind you with a wasted notebook in a hand and Frisk in the other, looking more relaxed than expected. Frisk beams you a smile, before Max tackles them to the ground with a hug.

“Toriel wanted to know if you could watch Frisk for a while, they wanted to see the stands.” James informs you, and you roll your eyes with a smile in your face ( _parents…_ ).

“Ok, but it’s a onetime thing, I’m not a babysitter.” He nods, quickly turning to look towards the church, and you get to catch a glimpse of sweat shining in his brow. _Maybe he **is** nervous._ “Everything good with my guests?”

The tic in his hand is almost imperceptible. “Yeah, they’re supposed to be making their apparition in an hour…” He sighs, his shoulders dropping, and fixes his hair with a tired hand. “The Circle wants for Asgore to give a big speech, Toriel is helping him write right now,” He gives you a tired look, and for some reason you feel a little guilty for his lack of sleep. “Sometimes I don’t know what they’re thinking, rushing things like this without thinking.”

You chuckle halfheartedly, using a nearby wall to support your weight while the kids run around you.

“That’s what you get for getting them the government approval in record time.”

He raises an eyebrow in that unique gesture of “I am impressed, I didn’t know you were that smart” (which isn’t the nicest compliment one can get). “How did you know I did it?”

You snort, giving him a know-it-all smirk. “Oh, _please_ , who else would be capable of convincing the government to let something like this happen, Williams?” He chuckles. There’s a glimpse in his eyes and, for a moment, if fells like these last years never happened (like you’re still a couple of rebellious kids, talking about burning the world over a table filled with old books and empty cups of coffee). “C’mon, tell me. What did you do now?”

He gives you a mischievous smile, looking younger than he has in years. “I might or might not warn them about the possibilities of an incoming war against both magic users and monsters if they refused to publicly acknowledge us.”

You open your eyes wide. For you, and a few other people in the magic society, it is no secret that the Circle has contact with the governments around the world (as James told you some years ago, “Sometimes you need a lot of people to know your secret, to keep it a secret”), but you weren’t expecting for him to, well…

“You threatened the government with _war_?” You are thorn between surprise and admiration, and you’re not sure which should be the one wining.

He smiles, nonchalantly fixing his clothes (secretly, he was constantly trying to look as cool and badass as you imagined him to be when you were younger). “Of course not, that would be considered an act of terrorism.” He says, like it wasn’t a big deal. “I just… gave them a _very accurate_ premonition.”

And there he is, the man you originally fell in love with. And you can’t help feeling a little guilty when your legs stay still and the old butterflies don’t appear in your stomach (it’s too late to fall for him again; it’s been for a long while now).

“Dad! Dad!” Max pulls James’ sleeve, excitedly jumping. “Frisk found some flowers! Can we make flower crowns?! Can we?! Can we?!”

James quickly shots you a desperate smile, clearly asking for help, and all your guilt quickly dissolves, because _this fucking guy…_

“Sweetie,” You call, and it should be illegal to disappoint those big, shiny eyes. “Daddy has a lot of work to do now; he can’t play with you…”

Max’s smile disappears in a blink, and it’s instantly replaced with an understanding look (you don’t know what hurts more, telling this to your son or knowing he is _used_ to hearing it). He nods, wishing his father a good day and running towards Frisk.

You stay to glare at your ex-husband.

“I can’t believe you keep doing this every time.”

“You know I have a job…”

_If you had a penny for every time you heard that excuse…_

“Oh, I know you have a job.” You practically growl. “It is you who apparently doesn’t know you have a son.”

He has the decency to look ashamed, and you just turn to walk away. What he does or says after that is unknown to everyone except himself.

On a little patch of grass in the middle of the town’s square, Max and Frisk have, somehow, got their hands in a bunch of flowers and are doing some flower crowns. Frisk seems to be having a good time, but Max is just playing with a daisy, absently looking at it.

_Sometimes you really want to kill your ex-husband._

“Hey, baby… don’t you wanna do a flower crown?” You ask, sitting beside him and softly petting his hair.

“Why? I’m no good doing them anyway…” He sulks, dropping the flower to a side.

You bite your lip, racking your brain for something to say, and Frisk looks around worried (they obviously want to say something, but feel too nervous with all the people around to do it).

And then, some walks by, wearing a blue hoodie.

“Hey!” You suddenly say in a stage whisper, catching your son’s attention. “Do you wanna know who I saw a while back?” He shakes his head, more for manners than interest. “Sans!”

It is good that you’re already sitting in the floor, because with how fast he jumped to stand up it wouldn’t be a surprise if he knocked you down. “REALLY?!”

“Really!” Frisk looks at you like they know you’re talking shit, but say nothing. “And you know what he told me?” This time the shaking is stronger, to de point of making Max lose his balance and almost fall. “He said… that he would love to have a flower crown made by you!”

You don’t know what kind of weird hero-worship he has for Sans, but, god dammit, it was useful. Suddenly your son is jumping up and down, collecting flowers and asking Frisk to “pretty, pretty pleeeeeeeaaaaaase” teach him how to make a flower crown.

At least he seems to make him happy.

* * *

Frisk finishes their fourth crown while you’re helping Max with his first and only one, when a voice comes out of the speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, dear neighbors of Low Ebott,” It is Sister Celeste. “Today, we, the followers of the Ancient Path, have an important message to share with you.” Everyone starts walking towards the church, and you carefully pull Frisk and Max closer to your chest, suddenly feeling the anxiety building in your chest. “For years, this has been kept a secret, forgotten my us and treated as a simple legend.” The air is heavy, and you’re more conscious over the people all around you than you have ever before. “But no more! This is a day to remember! A day of change! A change that will start here, in Low Ebott!”

You don’t even need to turn to know what’s happening, the general gasp makes it obvious.

“I present you all to Lord Asgore Dreemurr, King of the Underworld, and Lady Toriel!”

There’s a moment of silence, and you dare to sneak a glance of the church, where a little improvised stage is supporting Toriel and a nervous Asgore. Everyone is staring at him, without talking, almost without breathing, while the music that once filled the streets slowly starts dying.

For a moment, it feels a like a surreal dream.

And then Asgore starts talking.

“Well,” Cough “I… uhm…” He mumbles, stumbling over his words and looking at some paper in his big, fluffy paws. “I wanted to thank the Ancient Path Followers, first of all, for the opportunity they’re bringing us today and…” You can see him gulp from where you are. “And would like to ask the community of Low Ebott to… to…” The paper falls, Asgore looks worriedly in every direction, only relaxing when Toriel softly holds his arm.

You hold Max closer when Toriel takes the mic. Things aren’t going well.

“We apologize for our sudden apparition,” She says kindly, trying to get some control over the situation. “It must be a shock for everyone here, to see us for the first time.” She’s good, no doubt why Asgore insisted she should have kept the crown. “It’s two thousand years, since the last time we stood on the Surface, it is no surprise that many of you have forgotten us and our magic…” She pauses for a second, looking at her side. And you get to see James and the other members of the Circle, waiting their turn. “ _Your_ magic.” She punctuates. You bite your lip after looking over the little stage for the third time and finding no clue of Sans or Papyrus (are they still inside the church?). “We’ve come here today with a simple mission, to heal or wounded bonds with humanity and eventually return our people to the Surface,” You take Max, carrying him with an arm and holding Frisk’s hand with the other, walking around the sea of people towards the church’s back door. “Our only wish, if for peace and prosperity to everyone. And to show our transparency in this decision, we not only show ourselves here today, but also invite our main supporters to step to the front in this stage and come to the light too. There will be no more secrets for the people of this town.”

You catch a glimpse of James thanking Toriel and standing in the front of the stage, but miss this legendary moment in the history of magic because _a gut feeling is telling you to go find the skeleton brothers_.

You have a weird way of sorting your priorities.

“Sans? Papyrus?” You call, entering trough the little back door.

The two skeletons are sitting in one of the church’s benches. For the look in Papyrus face, it seems he has spent the last hours hearing Sans’ jokes.

“red?”

“WITCH HUMAN, WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?”

Somehow, seeing them doesn’t ease your worry, it just make it worst.

“What are you, guys, doing here? Shouldn’t you be outside with Asgore and Toriel?” You ask, putting Max down in the same bench. He immediately scoots closer to Sans.

“the high circle of snobiness said we should stay here while ‘his majesty’ gave the speech” He answers, petting your son’s head in automatic. “why are you here, tho?”

You shake your head. “I… I’m not sure…” The filling in your gut moved to your chest, and now it is just growing stronger and stronger, like it is waiting for something. “I just…”

There’s a sound in your head, like two cables connecting, and you feel how something pulls you to the door, Sans and Papyrus walking behind you, each one holding a kid.

“hey, are you-”

You put a finger over Sans’ teeth to silence him, and open the church’s door just an inch.

And then you hear them.

_The whispers._

“ _Magic?_ ”

“ _What kind of joke is this?_ ”

“ _Witches and monsters?_ ”

“ _This can’t be good…_ ”

“ _Take the kids home and close the doors._ ”

“ _Don’t stay too close! Who knows what can happen…_ ”

“ _Are they… are they going to **hurt us** if we refuse to help them?_ ”

“ _What should we do?_ ”

“ _Who would thought things like this existed…_ ”

“ _What’s going to happen now?_ ”

“ _They say ‘peace’, but…_ ”

“ _Everyone knows witches are bad news…_ ”

“ _What if they curse us?_ ”

“ _What are they doing here?_ ”

“ _Can we really trust them?_ ”

“ _Why here of all places?_ ”

“ _Everybody knows witches are bad news…_ ”

“ _You can’t trust a witch, there isn’t anything like a good witch._ ”

The three of you stay in silence, looking in horrified awe how all your hopes fall to the floor while James, Toriel and Asgore desperately try to control the situation.

The whispers start to grow louder and louder.

“we need to get them out of here before this explodes.” Sans states, the familiar blue flame already burns in his eye.

“HIS MAJESTY NEEDS HELP! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, MUST PROTECT THE KING!”

“i’ll take them all to the house, we can think how to solve this there-”

“Mom? Is something bad happening?”

“Miss Fairy?”

“red, can you-”

But you don’t hear them anymore. Instead, you open the church’s door to its fullest, and take several steps to the front.

James and Toriel look more than surprised when you stand in front of them.

“People of Low Ebott, I have something to confess.”

_You can’t trust a witch, there isn’t anything like a good witch._

“I am witch.”


	21. Coming Out Of The Magic Closet

You are laying on the couch, absently looking at the ceiling while your son plays with your hair.

“I can’t believe I did that.” You say.

“I can’t believe you did that.” James says.

“well, i think no one can believe you did that.” A skeleton in a blue hoodie says, coming out of the kitchen with a cup of warm tea for you.

Behind him come the King of Monsters holding a tray with a kettle and more cups, the Ex-Queen of Monsters with a freshly baked pie, and the Ambassador of Monsters (who is also your student) with a plate of cookies.

A second skeleton, tall and armored, offers to clean the dishes while the King asks the members of the High Circle of Magic if they want one or two spoons of sugar in their teas.

_What the hell is happening with your life anymore?_

* * *

_I am a witch._

You don’t even know why you said it, what kind of force pulled you to open that door and do it. But what is done is done, and now you can see how the faces of all these persons you’ve got to know change to surprise and a growing horror as the seconds go by. To your left, James looks horrified, to your right, Toriel is pale like a paper, and you don’t even want to imagine how Sans looks behind you.

You fucked up. You fucked up big time and now there’s nothing you can do to save the situation.

_How do you always manage to ruin everything?_

“I…”

_Shut up. Just shut up and let the people that know how to deal with this stuff deal with it._

But you won’t (of course you won’t). You’ll keep talking, because there’s a “feeling” in your chest that’s telling you to do so, and when was the last time you had a gut-feeling and didn’t jumped straight in the fire because of it?

You’re doomed, magic is doomed, and the ship is already sinking. But you’ll be cursed the day you don’t follow your instinct and make everything worse, right?

**Way to sort your priorities.**

Well then…

_Let’s throw more wood to the fire, shall we?_

“I know this must be a surprise for you all, but it is true. I am a witch, and I’ve been one since the day I was born.” _Why do you feel like you’re coming out of the closet in front of everyone?_ “I am a lot of other things, of course.” How to make people understand? How to show them you’re not a threat? “I am a teacher, a student, a woman,” _You hit them where it hurts the most_. “A mother.” _In the family._

You see a couple of persons shifting awkwardly, avoiding your eyes at all costs.

Dealing with adults wasn’t your strong point. But standing up there, looking at them from above that little stage, they all looked like kids.

Kids, a classroom full of them. Waiting for you to give your class, to help them understand what’s happening, feel safe in the middle of this silent chaos.

“I know this must be scary for you,” _Isn’t that a teacher’s duty?_ “I know it is for me.” _To help and guide their students when things get complicated._ “But I need you to hold down for a second and let me explain myself.”

_And, aren’t you an elementary school teacher?_

There’s a collective sigh, while everyone tries not to pass out. You bite your lip, worried, but the feeling melts away when a tiny hand closes around your index finger and a second hand (this one made of bones and magic) rests over your shoulder.

You take a deep breath. _What more can you lose, anyway?_

“Two thousand years ago there was a war between monsters and humans.” It feels weird, being up there telling that old story. “Scared of their magic, humans started a war against what they couldn’t understand.” Weird, but good. “And what’s worse,” _Really good._ “We _won_.” It is something on your voice, the reason why they don’t feel it like a victory. “We pushed monsters to a corner, and then made that corner their jail.” One can’t feel like you’ve won anything when someone talks to you like that (when someone looks at you like that). “And that jail, ladies, gentleman and everything in and outside the spectrum, was Mount Ebott.”

You let that sink, just like your advisor told you the first time you gave a class alone (“You need to make a pause after saying something important. Give emphasis to your words, let the kids digest them, understand they matter”).

“I understand, magic is scary,” _Be kind._ “But we can’t let everything that’s new scare us,” _Be firm._ “That’s not the spirit this town has showed me for this past year.”

_Be someone these kids can rely on._

Take a deep breath, and keep your mind open.

“When I took the train to Low Ebott for the first time I was scared, terrified, to say the least.” Sans’ hand slowly travels down your arm, making the electricity ( _the magic_ ) run through your body. “I didn’t know what awaited me here, what kind of people I would find, if I would be able to stay safe.” You feel blue and red magic twisting and sparkling in your joined hands, but no one seems to care. “But I found something that I wouldn’t have expected even in my wildest dreams.”

They’re all looking at you.

 _Just you_.

_An elementary school teacher._

“I found a town that opened its arms to a stranger without asking, filled with people that cared about me feeling safe, feeling welcome.” ‘ _We’re fine, mom. Really._ ’ “A town where I can let my son walk around without fear; and everyone comes to help when you have a problem” ‘ _Are you sure? Are the humans treating you good?_ ’ “I like living here.” ‘ _They are. Tone down your paranoia._ ’ “I like the fresh air of the mountain, and walking through the forest. I like my house, my job, and the people I got to know here.” ‘ _It’s not paranoia. You know as well as I what humans are capable of!_ ’ “I like seeing your kids every day at school, being part of their lives, seeing them grow.” ‘ _I know, mom, but…_ ’ “Seeing my son grow in a town where I know he can be safe.”

‘ _But what?_ ’

“I love living in Low Ebott.”

‘ _I think these humans are good humans._ ’

“And I want to keep living here, to see my son grow here”

‘ _I think they would understand…_ ’

“To see monsters make amends with humanity here.”

‘ _Humans don’t understand. That’s what makes them human._ ’

Silence.

‘ _I don’t know…_ ’

Pure, infinite silence.

And a little hand rising in the middle of the crowd.

“Miss Fairy?” It’s a little girl with piggy tails, one of your students. “Are you leaving?”

You take a step closer, letting go of Sans’ hand, and someone in the crowd gasps when you crouch to pet the girl’s hair. Everyone seems to be on edge.

“If it makes everyone feel safer I’ll have to.” You explain.

The little girl looks about to cry.

“But I don’t want you to!” She cries out, jumping to catch your hand. “I want you to stay! You’re my favorite teacher!”

Another kid pipes up, somewhere in the crowd.

“Miss Fairy is leaving?!”

And another.

“Who’s going to stop Sam from climbing trees?!”

And another.

“Who’s going to stay after school until my mom comes for me?!”

And another.

“Who will let me braid her hair in the breaks?!”

And, in a complete change of scenery, every kid in Low Ebott came to the front and started crying.

And the cries that once called for attention and fun became louder, and more complicated.

“Who will tell my grandpa to let me dance?!”

“But my dad only listens to her!”

“I can’t understand math without her!”

“It’s not fair!”

If there’s something you’ve learned being a mother _and_ a teacher, is that nothing puts adults in a tight spot like a kid crying.

And the voices of tens of parents in distress rose.

“Well, she _is_ a good teacher…”

“And her son is such a good kid.”

“Frisk likes her a lot, too.”

“Monsters look quite harmless, actually.”

“Magic doesn’t really look that dangerous, anyway…”

“But the skeletons…”

 _But of course_. Toriel and Asgore looked like fluffy, friendly goats, but Sans and Papyrus were skeletons, and people isn’t fond of skeletons for very obvious reasons. You need something to keep them on your side, something to-

You bite your lip, looking directly at the object in Max’s right hand.

_This must be morally wrong._

“Max?” You call your son, and he looks at you, clearly confused with the situation. “I think this is a good time to give Sans your present, don’t you?”

His eyes shine like a thousand stars, and he effusively nods while preparing himself. You take a step back, pushing a confused Sans to the front and subtly guiding him to the middle on the stage, shooting James a quick glance. He clears his throat loud enough to get everyone’s attention.

“I, uhm…” Max nervously shifts, fighting with his words. Frisk moves closer, giving him confidence. “I made this for you,” He says, holding up the blue object that seems to stay in one piece by magic. “It’s a flower crown.” He quickly adds, and you make a signal for Sans to knell down.

Max stutters some more, before putting the crown on top of Sans skull and finally saying,

“Happy Magic Day, Sans…”

There’s a moment of confusion, before something jumps in your chest (something that isn’t covered in nervousness and worry) when the skeleton carries your kid in his arms, spinning around to make him laugh.

“happy magic day, buddy.”

Low Ebott aw’s in synchrony.

* * *

“That was some good crowd management.” James praises you, taking a sip of the tea Asgore just poured for him. “Good thinking.”

You nod; putting the cup Sans gave you on the coffee table and moving to lay in the couch again. This time Max climbs to cuddle with you, instantly falling asleep, while Sans lets you put your head in his lap, gently petting your hair.

“you ok, red?” The skeleton asks.

“Yeah…” You answer absently. “I just…” You let the words hanging there for a while, unsure what to say. “I don’t know anymore…” You finally decide.

There’s silence for a moment, before Toriel and Asgore announce their departure to the church, where the Sisters have prepared some rooms for them to stay until the situation stabilizes, and the Circle offers to accompany them before going home themselves. You offer James your couch in exchange of reading your son a bedtime story, and walk upstairs carrying Max while Sans somehow carries a very sleepy Papyrus. After that, and for some reason you don’t understand quite well, you end sitting in the couch with your ex-husband and a skeleton after leaving the “kids” sleeping in Max’s room.

Your life makes less sense each day.

“… I think I need a drink.” You announce, standing to walk towards the cabinet +18 drinks.

Sans’ chuckle make your body tremble. “i think we all need a drink.” He says playfully. “it’s been a long day.”

“You can say it again,” You snicker. “Rum? Vodka? Tequila?” You offer out loud.

“In this moment I could drink perfume,” James says, and you can’t help the laugh. “Just bring a bottle, anything will do.”

You take out a half empty bottle of rum, and snap your fingers to bring three glasses with ice from the kitchen. Sans pours the drinks and the three of you just look at the glasses in silence for a while, thinking.

“What now?” You ask to no one in particular, taking a sip from your glass. The alcohol burns your throat, leaving a strong taste in your mouth. “What are we gonna do?”

James empties his glass, before letting out a long sigh with his eyes closed, and pouring himself another drink.

“We gather strength, build our defenses.” He says, clicking his tongue. “Prepare for whatever comes next.”

“you talk like a war’s commin’” Sans points out, and a shiver runs down your spine. It’s too early to talk about war.

“There _is_ a war coming.” James says bitterly. “Just not the kind you’re thinking of.”

You twist your lips, the ambient becoming heavier.

“A social war…” You mutter.

“In and outside the streets, people are going to react to this.” James states, emptying his drink again, with a frown (it makes you a little nervous to see him drinking, but you say nothing). “We dropped the bomb, now we need to see what’s left after the explosion.”

Saying it like that, he doesn’t sound as lively as he seemed earlier today.

_Is this your fault?_

“hey, pal,” Sans calls out to him, and you think there’s some annoyance bordering his voice. “there’s no need to be sulking, ok? things worked out, it wasn’t smooth from the beginning, but things worked out.”

“But at what cost?! I-?!” James seems frustrated, and you don’t know to which side swing in this problem. “You don’t understand, do you?” He finally asks, looking tiredly at you.

You shake your head. “You’re gonna need to explain it with drawings, because I’m not catching you.” You say, carefully eying the glass in his hand. He seems to notice.

He sighs, letting the empty glass in the coffee table. “I can’t keep you safe, not after this.”

You exchange a confused glance with Sans.

“Keep me safe from… what?”

When he looks at you, there’s something in James’ eyes that makes you shiver.

“From whatever comes next.” His voice isn’t exactly cold. Actually, it is warm, and full of worry. “Even if things went bad, you could always keep your life, live a peaceful life here, but now…”

He doesn’t end the sentence. But he doesn’t need to; you perfectly understand what he wanted to say. After your little scene, you’ve officially became the Pro-Magic Movement poster child without noticing.

“I can’t keep you out of the spotlight anymore…”

A shiver runs down your spine. And, just when you’re about to start hyperventilating, a hand appears over yours, keeping you grounded.

“don’t worry,” Sans says, while you feel his magic trying to soothe your nerves. “i’ll protect her from here on.” Something jumps in your chest, something warm. And then he turns to look at you, a mischievous smile on his face. “but, truth be told,” He gives you an impossible wink that makes your insides burn more than the alcohol. “she has some _wicked magic tricks_ under her sleeve.”

You smile. Then you laugh, out of nervousness. Then you pour everyone another glass, and start talking about all the ways you’re going to burn this world with your ideas.

Because, if this is going to be a war, at least it should be a _damn_ _interesting_ one.

_Right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My exams are going well, btw, and the next chapter is, uh... *looks at unfinished chapter* on its way... maybe ^^U  
> I love you all, my dear, marvelous, readers. You're awesome, and I hope you know it :3


	22. Little By Little

“Adam, don’t forget your jacket! Chris, don’t let your father go until I talk with him! I have several questions to ask him! Lo-” A little hand pulls the edge of your dress, and you kneel down to listen to one of your students. After they’re done talking, you raise your voice over the noise once again. “Does anyone know where Mia’s backpack is?!”

Someone jumps at the back of the classroom. “Is it purple with a unicorn?!”

You finish helping other tie their shoes. “That’s it!” You announce, turning to fix another student’s pony tail.

After ten minutes of absolute chaos, the kids are more or less ready to go home.

“Does everyone have their backpacks? Jackets? Pencil case? Notebooks?” They nod, and you take a second to sigh and fix your hair. “Alright, tomorrow we’ll be making cookies,” The kids jump and clap, making victory poses. You laugh, making a signal with your hand for them to calm down. “Don’t forget your spare clothes or your Tupperware, if you don’t bring a Tupperware you won’t be able to take your cookies home.” They nod again, and you send a quick glance towards the door.

_Ready?_

“Alright, class’s over!”

Sixteen little bodies threw themselves towards the door, and fought to be the first one to cross. Meanwhile, Frisk stood by your side, waiting.

Sometime later, when the door wasn’t covered on over-excited kids, the two of you walked out, making your way to the front door.

“So, how’ve you been, little one?” You ask, ruffling their hair.

Frisk laughs, taking a little notepad out of their pocket, before putting it back in and signaling.

_‘Good! I got a new coloring book!’_

“Cool!” You smile warmly at them, opening the last door. “That mother of yours sure is a keeper,”

Finding Toriel in the sea of parents and children isn’t complicated, her head can be seen above all others and Sans’ presence next to her makes most of the adults avoid them. They even divide in two groups when you walk by, letting an open space big enough for Frisk to run and jump into their mother’s arms.

People tend to hold their breath when you and Toriel cross paths. It’s like they forgot any event in the past days related to magic, until they saw you with the monsters, and the memories of the last three days came rushing down the hill.

But it’s getting better. The kids aren’t half as scared as their parents, and your presence there, even after they found out you’re a witch, tends to soothe the adults’ nerves.

Max comes running outside, tripping with his shoelaces and getting up almost instantly, clinging to Sans’ sleeve while jumping and talking about stars. Summer is almost here, and that means clear skies to do some stargazing. Frisk joins the fun too, and you smile warmly at the two (three, if you count Sans) kids getting excited at the oncoming summer.

A couple of parents say their goodbyes while walking past you, wishing you a good day and thanking you for your hard-work. Some of them even take a moment to stop and acknowledge Toriel with a little head movement, a whispered word. It isn’t much, it’s not gonna appear in TV, no one will notice outside town.

But for you it is a lot, it is a change, it is—

“Dad! Wait! Miss Fairy wanted to talk with you!”

It is time to get back to work.

“Ah! Mister Green!” You turn to look at the man in his forty-somethings, a sickly sweet smile on your face. “Glad to see you could make some time for me in your tight schedule! Now, if you don’t mind—”

“I said it once and I’ll say it twice! I won’t accept these _things_ in my-!”

A electric whip snaps somewhere.

“As I was saying,” You continue, pretending the red sparkles in your hands don’t exist. “Why don’t we continue this conversation in the classroom?”

The man stutters a “yes”, and you make signal with your hand for him to walk inside.

“Go ahead,” You tell Toriel, holding the school’s door open. “I’ll pick him up as soon as I finish.” Giving a wink and a little smile you make your way inside. “It won’t be that long, promise!”

* * *

You let yourself fall on the chair, waving at Papyrus, who’s playing with the kids in the church’s garden. A couple meters from them, Asgore tends to the flowers while talking with Sans.

The scene is so family-like that you feel a little out of place.

“Thank you.” Toriel says, passing you a glass of cold lemonade. “Not everyone would take the time to talk with every human and explain the situation like you do,” She smiles, and you get to see the bag under her eyes. It looks like no one has been getting much sleep lately. “It is a great help for us.”

You empty the glass in one gulp, unsure of what to say. “It’s okay, don’t mention it.” Talking with Toriel isn’t as uncomfortable as before, but a part of you still can’t help feeling like an awkward teenager taking tea with the queen. “We’re in the same boat, anyway.”

Toriel gives you a sad knowing smile, and you sigh heavily, letting your head and arms rest on top of the table. Monsters and witches are, indeed, in the same boat. But you are not. People in Low Ebott knew you, they liked you and trusted you _before_ the cat got out of the bag, and know you had that in your favor. In this moment, the only thing keeping them from seeing magic users and monsters as, well, monsters; were you and Max.

It’s always easier to burn the witch when the witch isn’t your kids’ favorite teacher.

_And your mother said studying education was a bad idea._

“You still in for tomorrow?” You ask, taking a bite of a brownie. As part of the human-monster integration activities, you offered Toriel to be your right hand in tomorrow’s class. “The kids are dying to bake those cookies.”

She smiles at the idea, and you high-five yourself quietly.

“I can’t wait for tomorrow, I still haven’t decided what to do,” She says, eyes shining and hands clapped together. “I was thinking we could make butterscotch cookies, but they’re a little complicated and it would be too much work to clean afterwards. I still think the kids should have more options than simple chocolate chip cookies. Maybe I could bring some cinnamon and cocoa— Oh! And some dark chocolate for the ones who don’t like them too sweet! And it would be good too if-”

You just smile, unsure of who is more excited about tomorrow, the kids or Toriel.

“They get along quite well, don’t you think?”

You jump surprised, blinking a couple of times to clear your mind. It looks like, in the middle of your dazzle, your eyes slowly turned to the left, where the skeleton brothers are playing with the kids. Sans makes Papyrus float while Frisk and Max pretend to lift him, filling the air with laughs and giggles.

“Yeah… they do…” You bite your lip. You know nothing about being a wingman, let alone flirting in general, but this seems like a good opportunity to give Sans a hand. “Talking about it…” You start, catching Toriel’s attention. “They have been pretty helpful in my house lately,” You say with a little smile. “Papyrus helps a lot with cleaning, and cooking… and stuff; very responsible.”

“Oh, Undyne does nothing more than to praise Papyrus.” She comments delighted. “He’s a good child with a pure heart. It’s such a shame he’s so fixated in being a guard, he’s too sweet for that kind of job…”

“Of course,” You smile, before taking another brownie. “And Sans doesn’t stay behind,” You take a bite, trying to be casual. “He might be lazy, but he’s smart, kind, and reliable.”

She laughs. “He sure is, isn’t he?” And you smile back. “Did he tell you how we met?” She asks, and you feel something jump in your chest when you nod, because _yes, he did tell you_ , and knowing that you heard it first from him in priceless. You’re enjoying a lot this whole friendship-without-lies thing. “He helped me a lot. Whenever I had a bad day, whenever I felt down, I could trust in him to make me laugh.”

Your smile is about to jump out of your face. “Tell me about it.”

“And he’s been of great help these past days.”

“I know, right? He’s working so hard.”

“Frisk loves him a lot too.”

“He’s really good with kids.”

“I’m glad you two are getting along well,” She smiles, and you grin, already patting yourself in the back. “He’s such a good boy.”

Time stops for a second and a disk scratches somewhere inside your brain.

_He’s such a good boy._

_Such a good boy._

_A good boy._

**_Boy._ **

_Oh, gods…_

* * *

“well that’s encouraging…”

“C’mon!” You pat him in the back, desperately trying to help. “Toriel is at least more than two thousand years old! It’s obvious she sees everyone as a kid!”

He gives you a dubious look, and you panic a little. Maybe telling him about this wasn’t a good idea…

_But you already fucked up, so why stop here?_

“I mean, you can show her you’re an adult, right?” You try, shrugging with an almost smile.

Sans doesn’t look amused by your suggestion. “really? and how do you suggest I do that?”

 _Well, that is a good question_.

“What do I know?! Do I look like an adult for you?!” You answer in a hushed whisper. Max and Papyrus are playing upstairs.

“you’ve been married! you must know something about how to be an adult!”

“I got married at _nineteen_! I was barely legally an adult! Let’s not talk about psychologically!”

“you have a kid!”

“And you have a little brother!”

“you’ve got a job!”

“Your curriculum is _three times mine_!”

“WITCH HUMAN?” Papyrus calls from upstairs, and you stop aggressively whispering to each other for a second. “THE TINIEST HUMAN WISHES FOR A STORY BEFORE GOING TO BED!”

You sigh, standing up and putting your books under your arm. Sans follows you upstairs and into the little library, when you drop a stupid suggestion.

“You could always come and make cookies with us and the kids tomo…”

Sans felt how bad of an idea that was even before you turned to look at him, eyes shining and a big smile on your face.

_He was going to have a bad time…_

* * *

You didn’t tend to say this out loud, but growing as the only child in a magic house was lonely. That’s why, from a young age, most of your life has been shared with a TV or a computer.

Some may say you were an introvert.

“red, no.”

The internet tends to categorize you as a “fangirl”.

“Red, yes!” You whisper, pulling Sans to the inside of the classroom, smiling at your students, who gasp surprised at his presence. “Hey, kids! We have a special guest today!” The parents that came to help, with exception of Toriel, smile nervously, questioning your decision with their eyes. “Does someone know who he is?”

One of your students raises a hand, and you give him a signal to speak.

“The skeleton man?” He asks, dragging a couple of giggles from his friends.

“That’s right!” You chirp, positioning Sans in the middle of the front. “This is my friend, Sans the Skeleton!” He waves his hand, sweating and smiling nervously. You clap, ignoring his panic. “Why don’t we give Sans a big ‘hi’?”

Sixteen little voices choir a cheerful, “Hi, Sans!”, while Frisk waves energetically from the back.

The parents still appear to be in distress.

“Sans here is reaaaaally good baking, and he offered to help us make cookies today!” The kids jump, and you pat Sans back trying to be reassuring. “What do we say to that?”

The kids’ voices boom through the room, “Thank you, Sans!”

You smile at him, and he sweats more.

“this is a bad idea.”

“Of course not!”

* * *

The day can be divided in four steps that repeated over and over:

  1. The kids do something.
  2. Sans gets nervous and fucks up.
  3. The parents panic.
  4. Toriel saves the day with her diplomacy and manners.



After a little more than an hour of running from side to side, desperately trying to keep a war from starting in your classroom, the cookies are ready to be decorated. The kids rush to their parents, showing proudly the fruit of their hard work, and you smile at them.

Even when all those little problems and anxious mistakes haven’t made Sans look anymore “mature”, the original objective of the mission has been achieved: It appears that seeing her bake cookies and play with the kids is making the adults have better opinions of Toriel.

After all, she _is_ the monster equivalent of Martha Stewart. Her ears are tied in a perfect bun, her cookies always had the right form (the stars look like stars and the circles are impossibly round), and she’s completely clean, except for some floor over her nose. She wears gloves to keep her hair from touching the mix, and you’ve never seen someone put icing so masterfully.

A part of you, and every other adult in that room, feels ashamed of ever saying you were good baking.

“you should close that mouth, miss fairy.” Sans comments, nudging you on the side.

“Oh, shut up,” You push him back. “Go back to your mix, baker-boy.”

He’s going to say something, but then a kid clings to his sleeve and another hugs him from behind. Five kids fight for Sans attention while the poor skeleton tries not to pass out, he seems to have achieved a new, never seen before, level of anxiety.

You facepalm internally, quickly distracting them with the tubes of icing.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had problems with kids?” You ask in a hushed whisper, helping a girl to fix her ponytail while moving the dirty dishes to a side. “I thought that was something that only happened with Max.”

“i tried to, but someone wasn’t listening.” He whispers back, passing you a tray.

“Hey!” You complain, showing him your tongue. “I was trying to help.”

“oh, really?”

“It is you who isn’t using this opportunity to look good in front of—”

He jumps to cover your mouth, muffling your snickers.

Some parents give you a frown or click their tongues, but you’re quick with giving them a severe glare. All parents know that disrespecting the monsters equals a good lecture from you after school. You’ve been very clear about your position in this from the beginning, and how little you will tolerate any kind of discrimination towards the monsters in town.

Besides, kids seem to love them for some unexpected reason.

Either way, all that staring and whispering behind his back is making Sans even more uncomfortable than the kids, and you’re quick to take the dishes and pull him out of the room.

It’s almost ridiculous how getting out of there improves Sans’ mood.

“I swear to the gods, Sans! If you make another joke about cookies I’m gonna—”

“c’mon, sugar, i thought we had a _magical_ connection—”

“That’s it—”

“’Scuse me…” A woman calls out for you, and you recognize her as one of your students’ mother “I… I was wondering if you could… uhm…” She points to the shelf over your head, where a little bottle of soap rests.

It takes you a second to get back in character. “Oh! Sure!”

You stand on your tip toes and try to reach it, but whoever put it there was at least a head taller than you. After stretching your arm for a while, you put your knee over the sink to try and stand in it.

Without notice, blue spirals surround you, putting you back on the floor before you can kill yourself by accident.

_Sometimes you forget magic isn’t a secret anymore._

“here,” Sans says, making the bottle float to his hand, and handing it to the woman.

She looks at it with fear, giving you a quick glance. Sans seems to understand the situation, because he passes it to you, and gives her a little smile, an “it’s okay” smile.

“Here,” You mutter, handing it to her.

She takes it carefully. “Thank you…” She whispers. Then, before turning away, she looks at Sans. “And, uhm, thank you too…”

He waves a hand, smiling lazily. “Don’t mention it,”

She gives a nervous smile back, and you rest your hip against the sink.

“Well, that was something...” You say, smiling at him. “It wasn’t a lot, but it sure was something.”

He smiles back, and you nudge him in the side.

“Wanna go back in?” You ask, letting your head rest over his. “There’s still time for more cookies…”

He chuckles, playing with your hair. “you’re gonna eat them all anyway,”

“But of course!”

“cookie monster.”

“Silly monster.”

He laughs, taking your hand to help you stand on your feet, and you feel your heart beat faster, even when you don’t mention it.  You prefer to just enjoy the feeling, at least for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I talking about the revolution? Am I talking about Astrid/Reader and Sans? Who knows? =w=  
> (It's been a long while, and even when I haven't got time to reply to comments, I want you all to know I WILL DO IT... eventually, just give me some time, a lot is happening in my life lately... nothing bad, tho, just a lot of time consuming stuff -w-)  
> Love you all! Have an interesting week! :3


	23. M Is For Magic

It was a good day. There were pancakes on the table, birds chirping in the garden, you just got paid, and Sans needed to hold your arm to keep you from punching a hole in the wall.

"For the last time, **no, you can't** _._ "

The voice on the other side of the phone replicates with something that makes you clench your teeth.

"No, sir, I do not care about who are you or what newspaper do you work to." You state once again, while red sparkles start to jump in the kitchen. Max takes his plate and moves closer, unsubtly trying to eavesdrop in the conversation. “Any request to have an interview with King Asgore or Lady Toriel must be approved by the High Circle of Magic first, no matter who you are or what you do. It is a _safety measure_.”

Sans doesn’t know what the voice on the other end of the line replies, but by the way your pupils dilate and shine with dangerous red magic, he can only guess that that guy just shortened his life spawn by a couple of years.

You take a deep breath, and you do it again. The electricity disappears, and Max and Sans exchange a nervous glance over your shoulder.

“You know what? I think you do have a point there, sir.” Your voice is as unsettling as the silence before an explosion. “Why don’t you give me your name and newspaper’s name again, so I can pass this information to my contact inside the circle, hmm?”

After a couple of aha’s and a polite goodbye, you finally hanged the phone and put the little post-it on one of your notebooks.

It was labeled under the “Over My Dead Body” list.

“another one?” Sans asks when you finally take a seat on the table, with Max taking his righteous place on your lap.

You nod tired, taking a quick glance to the clock. “I thought James was exaggerating when he said these guys were like rats.” You have ten minutes (maybe fifteen, if you walk fast enough) to eat something before leaving for work. _Great._ “I don’t know what’s worse, journalists or parents.”

“they’ll get bored eventually.”

“I hope so, we can’t let all of them come here just yet,” You growl, and Max feeds you a piece of his pancake, carefully putting two more in his plate while you weren’t looking. “Things are going well, but not enough to survive newspapers trying to convince people we’re Satan’s spawn.”

Sans pats your back, giving you a little wink. “at least yesterday went sans-ational.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes at the joke, while Max stopped stuffing pancakes on his mouth to glare at Sans.

“I could hear your panic from my classroom.”

Your giggle becomes a full blown laugh.

“geez, kid, don’t make me look bad in front of your mom.” Sans laughs, messing Max’s hair from the other side of the table.

Max tries to shake Sans’ hand off, but still laughs. “I doubt that’s possible anymore.”

“is that so, troublemaker?” Sans carries Max, making him fly in a blue cloud and giving you time to put the dishes in the sink. You can clean later.

The kitchen fills with laughs, and magic, and you wish you didn’t had to go. But the clock is ticking and duty is calling.

“Don’t move him around so much after eating, he’s gonna get sick.” You remember Sans, pulling Max down from the cloud and carrying him to the front door.

“joykiller.” Sans comments with a little grin, and you nudge him in the ribs.

“Oh, shut up.” You answer with a smile of your own, putting Max on the floor. “See you after class today too?” You ask, maybe a little more hopeful than strictly necessary.

Sans shrugs, smiling lazily. “sure thing, buddy.”

You smile warmly, and crouch an inch to kiss his cheek (and maybe it’s an effect of the light, or maybe it’s not, but, for a second, he looks a little blue). “Later, Sans.”

Max hugs his knees. “Later, Sans!”

And, just before leaving, you turn to say one last thing, “Oh! By the way, I invited Toriel for dinner today.” You smile, batting your eyelashes innocently. “Hope you don’t mind.”

This time there’s no doubt.

He turns blue.

_You haven’t been so excited over a ship since leaving the Supernatural Fandom._

* * *

Adults tend to forget that you are a witch. You look the same, you talk the same, and you do the same. It is easy to forget magic exists once you notice how little it actually affects your life (and that’s exactly what you’re trying to achieve by making people see Toriel every day).

“Any question?”

“Can you make me fly?”

Kids, however, have an unusually long attention spawn for anything out of the ordinary.

Since revealing yourself as a witch on Sunday, your students have been silently waiting for you to do something “magical”, pushing things and making little disasters here and there to make you use magic, and getting excited in every little situation you actually used it. Until now, making some books float and writing on the chalkboard without touching it was more than enough to keep them quiet.

But after seeing Sans and Toriel yesterday…

“Can you make things disappear?”

“Can you make fireballs?”

“What’s your Hogwarts’ house?”

“Yes, not exactly but yes, yes but not a good idea, probably Ravenclaw.” You put the book down, sighing. “Any question related to class?” You ask again.

On the back of the room, on the far end, Frisk raises their arm.

Everyone falls silent, while they pass to the front and write their question on the board. They just do that when they want everyone to hear them.

_‘Can we learn magic?’_

Seventeen pairs of little eyes turn to look at you with expectation.

_Well, that’s unexpected._

* * *

“You want to _what_?” James doesn’t sound angry, but saying that he’s pleased with the idea would be a mistake.

“Look, I know how it sounds, but-”

“ _But nothing._ ” He cuts you midsentence. “Do you even know how much trouble you’d be causing? All the things I’ll have to do?” He questions sharply, making you clench your teeth. “It is not happening, period.”

“But-”

“Out of question.”

And then he hangs up, making you huff angrily and count to ten in your mind. Talking with James can go from ‘Best Buds’ to ‘Old Fashioned Father Versus Rebellious Teenager Daughter’ depending on how much work he’s been having lately. And, with monsters’ apparition, magic revelation, and a possible war on the way, it is no surprise he’s not in the best mood.

_He didn’t need to be so rude, though._

“why so blue, red?” Sans appears behind your back, sitting in one of the garden’s chairs like he’s been there the whole time. “got grounded?”

You stick your tongue out, but still smile a little. Seeing Sans’ obnoxious smile is always a good to ease your anger.

“Kinda,” You take a seat next to him. “I wouldn’t call it ‘grounded’, tho. I’m not a kid anymore.”

The smell of spaghetti comes from an open window, and you can hear Toriel praising Papyrus’ cooking in the kitchen, while Frisk and Max play with Asgore in the living room.

_It smells like family._

“what was it this time?” He asks, putting his feet over the little table and balancing on the chair with closed eyes. “another call? people in town?” He opens an eye, and you can see how the white light takes a second to appear, shining like a little star. “we already told you, don’t worry so much about it.” The light flickers for a moment, leaving just a black void. “we expected this to happen.”

 _This_. This is exactly why you can’t stop worrying about it, why you don’t want to stop worrying about it. Because you shouldn’t expect for people to treat you like a dangerous animal, a mistake of nature, a-

_“It doesn’t even count as an interview, they’re just circus attractions.”_

“I was thinking about making a magic class at school,” You swallow slowly, feeling the bile burn down your throat. “It wasn’t even my idea, the kids asked for it. I just thought it would be nice.”

Sans’ reaction is exactly what you expected it to be: Worry.

“it’s not that i don’t trust you, red,” He says quickly, noticing the frown in your face. “you can handle your stuff, i know it.” His voice is reassuring, a little nervous, but reassuring. “it’s just that, well… _i_ know it,” And you can see in his eyes how he tries to be gentle. “but they don’t, and you know what others think when they see it.”

You frown, and clench your fists, but nod slowly. Witch magic, and especially your magic, was no one’s favorite kind of magic.

With a frustrated sigh you get up, stretching a little and shaking the worries from your head. “I know, I know,” Offering him your hand, you help Sans get on his feet. “I just thought that… I don’t know,” _Oh, you do know._ “That it would be important to show them we’re not…” _Circus attractions._ “Less people than them.”

Sans knows that you’re not talking about the kids, and he knows that he should just wait until you drop the subject and let it be.

“well… ” But something in his chest tells him that he shouldn’t do it. “maybe you can do a class _about_ magic, instead of a class _with_ magic.” He shrugs when you turn to look at him, eyes wide like an owl. “i mean you know a lot of it history, maybe-”

“Sans,” You call, holding his shoulders with a big smile. “You’re bloody brilliant.”

Before he can even question what you understood (because you two were obviously on different pages), you’re already inside, making a fuss in the kitchen room.

“Paps! Do you have some storybooks from the Underground?!”

“WHY, YES, WITCH HUMAN. JUST YESTERDAY THE GREAT PAPYRUS BROGHT HIS COLLECTION OF THE FLUFFY BUNNY BOOKS TO YOUR HUMBLE LIBRARY.”

“Good! Toriel, Asgore, do you have something to contribute with?”

“Well, I have a book I read to Frisk before going to sleep-”

“More than enough!”

“Dear child, I think you need to sit down for a moment…”

“My friend, what are you planning now?”

“We’re telling fairytales from the Underground to the kids!”

_Oh, no._

“ _Tomorrow!_ ”

_Fuck._

_This is why he shouldn’t give you ideas._

* * *

“Sans!” The kids exclaim with joy when the skeleton enters the room. For some reason, children liked him even more than they liked Toriel or Asgore. It was probably the stupid smile.

You pat his back, trying to keep him from passing out. “hey there, pipsqueaks,”

Before any of your students can try to tackle him to the ground, you make a signal to the door. Their faces shine with excitement and surprise.

“TWO SANS!”

A part of you wants to say it was planned to let Papyrus come in after Sans to diverge the kids attention towards him, but that would be giving yourself too much credit.

“WOWIE! SO MANY LITTLE HUMANS!” The kids don’t seem to care about Papyrus’ loud voice; they’re too occupied giggling and clinging to him.

“Okay, everyone to their seats!” You call over their voices. “Everyone to their seats or I’m sending our monster friends home and teaching math!”

With gasps of surprise and clumsy steps the kids run to their seats, most of them sitting in complete silence. You wait a little, until you’re sure you’ve got most of their attention, and then you start talking again.

“Well then, seeing how good you behaved Wednesday on our cooking class, I decided to give you a prize.” Their eyes shine with expectation, making you smile warmly. “I asked our monster friends here if they had some stories from the Underground, and invited them to come share them with-”

The screams of joy reaches every corner of Low Ebott, making you wonder in the other teachers will call the police or just assume it’s your doing.

“Alright, alright,” You speak over them, moving your hands to calm them down. “We’re going to stand up and **orderly** walk to the playground. Take your cushions and toys if you want. Just _one_ toy! I’m watching you Danny!”

They obey you. Sans can’t stop getting surprised by how you tell kids what to do and _they actually do it_.

_Is this magic too?_

Frisk takes Toriel’s hand, and they walk out of the classroom, followed by a couple of kids. A little group of your students cling to Asgore’s cape, holding it over their heads and running under it, while most of the kids run behind Papyrus (who’s clearly enjoying the attention). You stay at the end with Sans, closing the door behind you and telling the kids to be careful with their running.

It was weird for Sans to see you being a teacher outside the house. It’s not like you’re faking it, but it isn’t completely like you either. You just look… controlled, like the fire of a lantern. Never too loud, never too quiet, with a kind smile and your messy hair tamed in friendly bun. You didn’t get angry, and you didn’t look too excited, you didn’t laugh out loud, and your desk wasn’t a complete disaster.

You weren’t a different person, but a part of Sans felt uncomfortable with the “you” that appeared on public, the you that wasn’t a wildfire.

“What do you think?” You ask, the shadow of a grin trying to make its way to your face. “I’ve heard second times are better,”

He smiles, eyes closed and hands in his pockets, trying to ignore the fact that there’s a literal army of kids in the building. “well, so far i think i can _second_ that motion.” An impossible wink, and your smile is about to become a smirk when one of the kids call your name, and you rush towards them.

Toriel makes a signal for him to come closer, and he sticks to her and the kid for the rest of the way, joking while looking you run from a side to the other like a…

“A honey bee.” Toriel asks over the kids giggling.

Sans turns his head quickly, surprised. “uh?”

“She looks like a honey bee.” Toriel explained, smiling at him and looking in your direction. “A busy honey bee trying her best at work, don’t you think?”

He turns again, to see you run everywhere, helping kids, helping adults, keeping things under control.

A busy, busy honey bee.

“she sure does,” And he smiles a little smile, like he’s remembering something good. “i mean, is there a time when she doesn’t do her best?”

“I highly doubt it.” Toriel smiles too, but it’s a different smile. It’s the kind of smile of someone that knows a secret, and can’t wait for everyone else to know it.

Frisk knows that smile, because they’ve seen you smiling like that a lot lately, but they say nothing.

_It’s better not to spoil things just yet._

* * *

“AND THEN THE FLUFFY BUNNY-”

“It was cold day of winter in Snowdin and-”

“If I remember correctly, we were exploring the forest when-”

“enjoying the view?”

You smile without looking at him, letting the fresh summer breeze refresh you. The kids are sitting in little groups, quietly hearing the tale of their preference.

“Enjoying the peace.” You correct, looking Sans from the side. “Give them ten minutes before the chaos starts again.”

He chuckles, taking a seat next to you on the little bench. Without even asking for permission, he turns to lay against you, his back against your shoulder, stretching his legs to get the maximum comfort. You snicker, rolling your eyes and just letting him be. It’s been a while since the last time you spent some time just chilling with Sans.

“Liking this day so far?”

He hums, pretending to be thinking his answer. “who knows…”

You smile, shaking your head softly. The fluff in Sans hoodie tickles your neck when he moves a little, and you can feel the magic softly roaring inside your chest.

“Sorry about the other day,” You finally say. “I got too excited with the idea of helping and completely disregarded your opinion.” You frown angrily. “It was wrong of me.”

Sans opens an eye to look at you, smiling in an attempt to ease your feelings.

“it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“i’m the one receiving the apology, and i say that it’s okay.”

You open your mouth, but close it almost instantly. There isn’t a lot you can say against that.

There’s silence for a while, with the wind softly whispering and the voices of the monsters telling stories in the background.

_A long, long time ago…_

“I just… I just want for people to see you,”

_In a little town on the outskirts of a mountain…_

“To know you’re people too,”

_Lived a red witch in a little house,_

“they will, just give them time.”

_With her monster friends and her young child._

“Mom!” Max pops out of nowhere, hair flying in every direction and completely out of breath. “They said… that the monsters were reading…”

You pull him up, accommodating him in the space between you and Sans, while the other kids from his classroom started to appear on the playground.

“Well, yeah, wanna join us, sweetie?”

Without waiting a second more, Max pulls out a book from his backpack and practically shoves it in your face.

“This one!” He exclaims, holding ‘The Cat in the Hat’ up in the air. “I want this one!”

While the other kids joined some of the other groups and the teachers tried to get accustomed to the idea of monsters reading in their playground, you and Sans fixed the book over Max’s lap, and started reading.

“the sun did not shine.”

“It was too wet to play.”

“so we sat in the house,”

“All that cold, cold, wet day”

On other part of the playground, not too and not too close, a little girl pulls Toriel’s dress to call her attention.

“Miss Toriel?” _Miss Toriel_ , there’s something in that simple title that makes her happy. “What happened with the witch and the monsters?”

She smiles, and Frisk furrows further in her fur, feeling sleepy with the warmth.

“Well, if I remember the story correctly,”

_They become a family._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Astrid ships Soriel, and Toriel ships Sanstrid, and I ship everything =w=  
> (I know this isn't Sunday, sorry ;w; , but I'm gonna start my new Writing Schedule this week! Horray!)  
> Have a wonderful week, my dear friends :3


	24. Full Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't dead, just awfully anxious...

It was awful.

No, it was worse that awful.

It was horrible, terrible, horrifying. A complete disaster!

“hey, red, pap says that-” Sans stops talking as soon as he opens your door. “is that… _blood_?”

_It was full moon._

* * *

It’s a well-known fact in the Magic Society that female witches, sorceresses, and magic users with ovaries in general, menstruate every full moon.

No one is sure why this happens, though. Some theories say it has something to do with the connections between the female body and the moon, while other attribute it to moon energy affecting magic. It is a truly interesting topic in which you would love to dwell any time.

_Any time but now._

“it’s okay, you’ll be fine!”

“STAY CALM, WITCH HUMAN! THE GREAT PAPYRUS WILL KEEP YOU SAFE!”

“Guys-”

“paps, don’t let the kid enter. i’ll go get tori!”

“Sans, this is n-”

“DON’T WORRY BROTHER! I’LL PROTECT THE TINIEST HUMAN’S INNOCENCE!”

“Can you two just-?!”

“Mom?” Max appears on the doorframe, brushing the sleep of his eyes and hugging his T-Rex.  “What’sh wron’?”

Sans and Papyrus exchange a worried look, trying to hide the red spots in your bed and tights as good as two _skeletons_ can. You, on the other hand, didn’t give that much of a damn.

“I’m bleeding, sweetie.” You state matter-o-factly, looking for some comfortable clothes under Sans and Papyrus shocked stares. _Was this so bad that the kid needed to know immediately? Was your body so clouded by pain that you mind has gone numb?_

“… bleeding?” Max mutters confused. In the middle of his sleepy mind, a lightbulb stars to blink. “… hurt?”

You shake your head, looking out the window. _Too hot to wear that._ “No, sweetie, I’m not hurt.”

Max looks down, furrowing his brow. “Bleeding, but not hurt…”

You count to five, and then, the lightbulb glows inside his mind, and behind his big eyes.

In the blink of an eye, his gone, fighting to put on his clothes while chanting the same two word over and over again.

“ _Full Moon! Full Moon! Full Moon!_ ”

Two confused skeletons turn to look at you.

_Remember that time you had to cover for another teacher and give a Sex ED class?_

_Well… time to relive it._

* * *

“And that’s how reproduction works for birds, reptiles and everything that lays eggs.” You finish, taking a bite from _another_ of Toriel’s pies (there’s enough to feed an army, not that you’re complaining). “Anything else you want to ask?”

It’s easier to face The Talk when you’re showered, changed, and the explanation is more scientific than anything. Sans has been silently nodding, trying to find where the lie is, while Papyrus hasn’t stopped throwing questions left and right. On the background, Max is still singing, occasionally passing by with some stuff from the garden.

“AND FISH?”

You close your eyes, and take a deep breath. _Is that a migraine? It feels like a migraine._ “Fish lay eggs, Paps, they reproduce more or less like birds.”

“AND DOGS?”

 _Fuck, these cramps hurt…_ “Dogs are mammals too, they work like humans…”

He stops to think for a while, holding his chin with a hand. _You okay? Maybe you need more sugar…_

“AND… ANNOYING DOGS?”

 _But that’s gonna make you fat…_ “I’m sure annoying dogs work like normal dogs too,” _But, sugar!_

“AND-”

“are you sure you’re fine?”

There’s this little moment, when you turn to look at him and a spark of… _something_ jumps, an electric shock running down your spine. Sans looks worried, and even when his concern for your wellbeing always melts your heart, this time it’s different. His voice has an effect you don’t remember it having before.

_It’s like someone left the gas open and lighted a match inside your body._

“red?”

_And it shakes you. It shakes you to your very core._

“you okay?”

“… f-fine…” You stutter, mouth feeling suddenly dry and body on fire. “I’m… fine…”

Sans doesn’t seem to buy it, but Max enters the kitchen carrying a bunch of flowers and, because Full Moon is also a celebration, the preparations must begin.

* * *

 

In some books, books that you’ve read at least a thousand times and memorized thoroughly, it’s stated that Full Moon marks more than the beginning of menstruation.

It says that it also marks the beginning of the Magic Cycle. Full Moon helps new, clean magic replace old magic. Spells are undone, gems and crystals recharge their energy, staffs and wands must be purified.

A time of change, a time to clean one’s body and soul, to receive the moon’s energy in all its power.

In some books, books that you haven’t read yet, but eventually will, it’s stated that Full Moon marks more than the beginning of menstruation.

It says that, when monsters rummaged the Surface, it marked… _another_ kind of rituals.

_Full Moon, after all, is a time for magic and Souls._

* * *

Full moon is a complicated time of the month for you. You have to prepare rituals, make sure Max doesn’t break anything, most of the time you even have to give classes, and it is always a little complicated when you feel like _your uterus is going through a meat compressor, like, holy shit, how does it do that?_

But it’s okay, it’s okay… you’re a grown up woman, you can deal with you period…

“you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“you look a little pale…”

“Sans, I’m bleeding! Of course I’m pale!”

_Totally under control. Yup, yup._

Sans tries to deal with this the best he can, but you’re moody, and even when you’re not completely “avoiding” him, you do tend to run to the other side of the room when he comes closer.

But you’re not avoiding him, you speak with him, from a safe distance, but you do.

That counts, right?

“hey, red, i was thinking-”

The flower ornaments you’ve been using to decorate the living room are sent flying to the air when you jump surprised, but that’s not what stops Sans in midsentence.

You fall, because standing on a chair over a table isn’t the most stable place in the world, and because letting people fall and probably break something aren’t really good manners, Sans catches you before the floor does.

Time stops, or at least it feels like it does, while the blue magic carefully eases you to his arms (“Not the ground”, you think to yourself, “ _his arms_ ”). It feels like ages, when you’re finally safe in his arms, holding the ornament in your hand with more strength than necessary while looking deep into his eyes. You feel like an electric current is running inside you, starting from the point where his chest touches yours, and moving outwards, you blood running like a wild horse while an invisible force insists in pushing you closer to him.

You feel yourself fighting to keep the magic inside your body (a magic that’s asking, begging to roam free), while trying to get your voice to say something, but he beats you to it.

“- that we should do this the easy way.” He finishes his sentence.

Slowly (painfully slowly) he puts you back on your feet, before snapping his fingers and gluing all the ornaments to the ceiling. You could swear there were little bones holding the flowers, but they were all white and it was difficult to difference them.

_Right, magic._

“Thanks, I honestly didn’t even consider it…” You say, trying to fix your hair, or at least make it less messy.

“don’t mention it,” He shrugs, giving you a lazy smile and a wink. “i don’t want you falling for anyone else just yet.”

You chuckle and slap his shoulder, feeling your legs waver just a little.

“Right, now help me with the crystals, would you? Every room needs at least one.” You take a big wooden box on your arms and start your way upstairs when the heavy weight is lifted up by a bright blue light.

“i know you hate it when others do stuff for you,” Sans says, carrying the box upstairs for you. “but for my peace of mind, don’t go carrying a box filled with rocks when you look about to pass out.” He scolds you, making you laugh.

“Sorry,” You mutter almost out of breath, taking a seat on the stairs while Sans goes from room to room.

From the window, you can hear Max and Papyrus singing in the garden.

“you should rest for a while, if it’s taking such a toll on you.” Sans’ voice comes from inside your room, making you feel warm inside. “paps and i are here now, you don’t need to worry so much.” He assures you.

You hum softly, “I suppose it is just the custom” You answer, carefully getting back on your feet. “This is the first time in a year I have help for Full Moon.”

“you’re sick and you can’t use magic without making the house explode, what are you even celebrating?” He asks, taking the box with him, a single crystal stands tall inside.

You laugh, walking to the end of the hallway.

“Who knows?” You shrug. “My mother always says menstruation proves that gods hate women, and Full Moon proves gods hate witches.” He chuckles and you accompany him with a laugh. “Anyway,” You take the cord hanging just above your head, smiling mischievously at him. “Wanna see my attic?”

* * *

The attic of a witch is a magical place.

It has all the things they’ve been unable to throw away through the years, like old implements and staffs, and the photos of when you still fitted in those skinny jeans

And dust, insane amounts of dust.

“so there _is_ a place in your house that isn’t awfully clean,” Sans comments, letting the box on the floor. “you better keep paps away from here, he has your cleaning skills on such a high stem.”

“All the dirt in the house had to go somewhere!” You laugh, the bun you put your hair into to work peaking above a pile of boxes. “Half of these boxes are things my mother forced me to bring because they didn’t fit in our attic anymore!” Your hand raises, moving to catch his attention. “I found a spot! Gimme the crystal!”

Sans walks around your boxes carefully, keeping a safe distance from everything that might or might not be a magical object. He hands you the big quartz, when a box just in front of his nose catches his attention. It says “Family Photos”, followed by two numbers. Using magic to lift the poorly positioned box, he slowly puts it on the ground and opens it. The box is, of course, filled with albums.

Taking one in his hands, Sans examines the old cover and opens it.

“My father loves cameras,” You comment, looking over his shoulder. “Not appearing in photos, but, like, the camera itself, being the cameraman.”

Sans laughs, a woman that looks a lot like you in ten years, and he assumes must be your mother, appears in most of the pictures, almost always frowning. Sometimes little glimpses of a man appear here and there, a hand, a reflection in the mirror, an extra shadow.

And then, a little kid in an old photo, holding a big book that Sans knows all too well by now.

“is it just me,” He starts, calling for your attention. “or the kid looks weird here.”

You look at the picture, and laugh.

“Well, he should.” You smirk, moving some things out of the way to sit on a box. “That’s me.”

It takes Sans a moment to process little that piece of information.

“what?”

“That’s me,” You repeat. “I was four on that picture, but girls grow faster.”

He looks completely lost.

“wha…” He stops, looking at the picture again. “how…?”

You giggle, covering your mouth with your hand, “Puberty.” You answer simply. “It comes for everyone.”

There’s a moment of silence, while Sans tries to understand what you’re saying.

“… all humans do it?”

“Do what?”

“change like that.” He says plainly. “do you really wake up a day as something so… _different_ , something that isn’t you.”

“It’s not that it ‘isn’t you’, is just that it isn’t the ‘you’ you’re used to seeing.” You try to explain, feeling how the English language betrays you. “Your body starts to grow and change, it grows hair in places that didn’t have it before, it smells, it has pimples, and everybody is staring at it, like you were an alien or something.” You laugh bitterly, remembering what an awful time it was for you. “Women have it worse because we get periods, and witches have it even worse because magic is affected by puberty too. If you mix both, you hit jackpot of emotional instability.”

Sans stays silent, trying to grasp his mind around the concept of human puberty while absentmindedly passing the pages of the old album. When high school gets a little too close your curiosity peaks up, as some sort of defense mechanism.

“I thought monster had a similar growing process,” You mention. “It just gave me that impression.”

Sans shakes his head slowly. “we grow,” He says, looking at some pictures were a younger James carries a teenager you in his back on the garden. “but, it isn’t like this at all…”

It was weird. Looking at the photos like this made him feel bad, almost dirty. It was like looking at your memories, memories you had of a time before you even knew he existed. It was one thing to hear about it, but to actually see it…

He coughs, taking his eyes away from the photos. “we just grow.” He says, shrugging when you give him a confused look. “monsters don’t change a lot, and some even don’t change at all.”

 “Hmm…”

_Monsters…_

_The more time you spent with them the more interesting they became._

“magic gets a little out of control, tho.” He says embarrassed. “one time when i was little i… might or might not have woke up to see,” Clears throat. “…bones coming out of the floor…” He finally said, a little blue hue in his face. “undyne almost impaled me once, too.”

You smile, chuckling. “Every time I got to a season finale things in my house explode.” You say, felling a little silly. “And one day my mother just came home to find me curled in a sobbing ball in the couch, Spock’s death of The Wrath of Khan in replay on the DVD, and a mark like a lightning stroke our living room when we weren’t looking.”

Sans laughs, even when you’re pretty sure he didn’t understand half that sentence, but it doesn’t matter, anyway.

You like talking with him.

_Maybe you like it a little too much…_

“how does it feel?” He asks softly, resting against a pile of boxes.

“What?” You wonder.

“full moon,” He clarifies, looking at you (or maybe looking through you). “how does this full moon thing feels to you?”

You ponder over it for a moment, opening and closing your mouth, and moving your hands whenever you were about to talk.

“It’s like…” You start, trying to give form to your thoughts. “Like magic is trying to get out of my body, y’know? Everything I do, everything I touch, or anyone that comes in contact with me triggers this reaction. Different levels, but always the same reaction.” You say, keeping quiet about the fact that Sans was the strongest reaction for you until now. “Like my magic is being pulled out of my body, like…” That wasn’t quite it, and you struggle with words, trying to find something. “Like my soul is trying to jump out of my body, or something…”

When you look up, Sans is already at the stairs.

“i think we should go back down!” He says with a nervous smile. “paps and the kid must be waiting for us!”

He gets down in three steps and you just stand there, putting the albums back in its place.

_Was it just your imagination, or his face looked like someone put a blue lightbulb inside his skull?_

* * *

_Maybe this wasn’t a good idea._

“Thank you for inviting us to your celebrations, my child.”

_Maybe this was a bad, bad idea._

“It’s nothing,” You give Toriel a smile, taking a sip of the tea cup Asgore just poured for you. “We made a lot of food, anyway.” You laugh it off.

Full Moon, just like New Moon and all other magic related celebrations, involves huge amounts of food. So, inviting Toriel, Asgore and Frisk to your improvised banquet just seemed like the most logical thing to do.

It wasn’t until you opened the door that you noticed a tiny detail:

  * Full Moon was a moment when magic was in its most uncontrollable form.
  * Magic is attracted to magic.
  * Monsters are basically walking magic fields.



So, basically, you were now a moth in a room filled with bonfires.

_Great._

“Are you okay, my dear? You look a little pale…” Toriel asks worried.

“Mhm…” You try to nod.

Papyrus isn’t a problem (probably because he’s still too young), Sans is…. _manageable_ , or something, but Toriel and Asgore….

“Do you want more tea, little one?”

“Have a piece of pie, my child; you look like you haven’t eaten all day!”

Two thousand years of ancient magic sitting in your living room is just too much.

“I’m fine, really,” _Fuck Full Moon._ “Just a little dizzy.”

The two old goat monsters continued fuzzing over you like they were your grandparents, while the magic in your body twisted and turned trying to tear you apart.

_Where the hell is Sans when you need backup?!_

* * *

“Shouldn’t you be inside with mom?” Max asks, looking suspiciously at Sans.

“i thought you would enjoy my company, trouble maker.” The skeleton says smiling.

Max turns to look at Frisk, and Frisk turns to Papyrus. The three of them nod, opening their little circle for Sans to sit down.

“so, what are we doing this time?” Sans asks, taking some of the sweets the kids were sharing. “more praying? dancing? a synchronized swimming number?”

Papyrus stares intently at Sans, Frisk chuckles and Max tries not to laugh.

“No,” The little boy says. “Not this time, at least.”

Sans’ smirk grows, and they share a smile.

“Full Moon is just cleaning and cooking.” Max says, sticking his little tongue out.

“YOUR PEOPLE SURE HAVE THE BEST TRADITIONS, TINY HUMAN.”  Papyrus complimented eagerly. “I AM POSITIVE THAT MY BROTHER COULD LEAR A THING OR TWO FROM YOUR KIND!” He says ‘subtly’ giving Sans a glare.

Frisk giggles, and quickly signs something with their hands.

_‘I thought your mom said something about a lake.’_

Sans’ body tenses when Frisk mentions you.

“Oh, yeah.” Max bites a cookie, not really interested it that. “Mom has to go to the lake.” The kid looks up at the stars for a while, before lowering his gaze and staring directly at Sans. “Are you going with her?”

All eyes are now on Sans.

“uh, should i?” He asks. Inside his head, your voice is on repeat.

_“It’s like magic is trying to get out of my body, y’know?”_

“Dunno,” Max says, shrugging. “I just thought you would do it, you’ve been with her the whole day.”

_“Everything I do, everything I touch, or anyone that comes in contact with me triggers this reaction.”_

_‘But, now that I think about it…’_ Frisk somehow manages to trail off while signing. _‘You’ve been kinda avoiding Miss Fairy these past hours…’_

The two kids and the tall skeleton close over Sans, while his face turns bluer and bluer.

_“Different levels, but always the same reaction.”_

“BROTHER,” Papyrus starts. “YOU WOULDN’T HAVE GOTTEN IN A FIGHT WITH THE WITCH HUMAN, RIGHT?”

Sans gulps.

_“Like my magic is being pulled out of my body, like…”_

“Right?” The three ask at the same time.

_“Like my soul is trying to jump out of my body, or something…”_

“’course not.” Sans smiles nervously. “i’m totally going to accompany her to the lake.”

Frisk smiles, Max resumes his cookie, and Papyrus looks satisfied. Sans isn’t quite sure why the three of them wanted for him to go so much, but he sure as hell doesn’t want to find out what will happen if he doesn’t.

_“It is like my soul is trying to jump out of my body…”_

It isn’t what he’s thinking, there’s no way it can be what he’s thinking.

“Frisk! Time to go home!” You call from the door, the kids run inside between giggles, and for a moment Sans looks at you, and you look at him.

His face turns an even deeper shade of blue.

_“Like my soul is trying to jump out of my body”_

It isn’t what he’s thinking, but God it is still embarrassing as fuck.

* * *

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“it’s okay.”

“I mean it; you can stay if you want.”

“i’m fine, don’t worry.”

“Then why are you walking five meters behind me?”

Sans stops, taking his eyes away from the ground and looking at your worried face. You’re carrying a bag that probably has magic stuff inside, and you’re look like you’re about to pass out.

In the middle of the forest.

_Do you really have to do this every month for a year?_

He takes a couple of quick steps and gets to your side, always making sure to keep at least a meter between you and him.

“sorry…” He murmurs.

You sigh loudly, stopping dead in your tracks

“What’s wrong?” You question. And before he can say that is nothing, you continue, “There _is_ something wrong, please tell me what it is.”

You stare at him for a long while, but when he doesn’t give any impression to want to say something, you keep walking.

The moon shines, big and round, over the mountain.

“You’ve been like this since we left the attic,” You say harshly, walking faster and clenching your fists. “You won’t get near me, you won’t talk with me, you won’t tell me what’s wrong-”

“in my defense, you’ve been doing the same all day…” Sans points out.

“Yeah! But it’s-!” You stop. Magic sparkles all around you, excited by Sans closeness, while you take a deep breath. _Fuck Full Moon._ “It’s… different…” You trail off, anger and unhappiness still bubbling inside you. “Monsters are too much for me…” You finally confess, embarrassed to the point of blushing. “I… I thought I could handle it, that it wouldn’t be different from witches…” You trail off. “I was wrong… absolutely wrong.” You let out a nervous laugh that sounds more like a cough, and keep your eyes up.

A long, silent while goes by, until Sans catches a glimpse of a while light coming from between some trees. You take the lead, moving some branches aside for him to pass, and the lake suddenly appears in front of his eyes.

_It is beautiful._

The clear water looks like a portal to the sky, Sans can see every star and constellation reflected in it, with tall trees circling the giant mirror. And, in the middle, a moon, big, round and white, shining more than anything he has ever seen before.

It looks, indeed, as a gate to another world.

“You stay here,” You tell him, grimacing at the cold water. “I gotta go freeze to death for half an hour.”

Sans nods slowly, looking at the lake with big eyes and his shoulder pressed against a tree to help him keep balance.

“are you going to be okay with the, uhm…”

“The blood?” You suggest, raising an eyebrow at how Sans looks more worried about it than you. “Don’t worry, purifying yourself in the water is an important part of this, it is a cleaning ritual, after all.”

“okay…” Sans nods, his eyes still fixed on the bright moon shining in the lake.

A couple of minutes go by, until the sound of you clearing your throat wakes him up from his daydream. You’re looking at him a little nervous.

“I gotta get in the water, Sans…”

“i know.”

You bite your lip, “I can’t get in the water with my clothes on…”

“of course not.” Sans assures, confused by why you would point something so obvious.

A single lightbulb shines in his mind.

“oh…” _And it is blue._ “i, uh, i’ll go, uhm…” He starts, looking nervously in every direction.

“Yeah, I think you should…”

“i’ll be right behind this tree.”

“Okay.”

“okay.”

The two of you stare at each other for another couple of embarrassed seconds, before Sans sits behind the tree, his eyes fixed on the opposite direction of the lake, and you go back to your rituals.

He hears you rummaging through your stuff, putting thing in the ground. The sound of a match being light resonates through the forest, while your voice softly whispers some chants to the wind. And then, the unmistakable sound of clothes slowly falling to the ground.

Sans doesn’t know what to do, what to think. It’s been almost a month since he meet you and started living in your house, with your family. You’ve been n weird situations, uncomfortable situations, complicated situations, but you have never been in this kind of situations.

You’re naked, less than three meters away from him. And he has never actually thought about it, about the fact that this hasn’t been the first time. How many times has he walked in front of your door while you were changing, or playing with Max in his room while you were taking a shower in the next room.

_And yet, this is the first time he has been conscious about it._

“Can you tell me now what’s wrong?” Your voice comes from behind him, from the lake. “Please?”

Sans shudders, feeling you closer than you actually are. “why? you need it to your moon stuff?” He tries to joke, but his voice feels unstable.

“Kinda,” You say, and he’s not sure why exactly, but there’s something in your voice that makes it sound vulnerable. “I can’t clean my mind if I keep thinking you’re mad at me.”

“i’m not mad at you.” He answers a little too eagerly, the need to hold you close beating against his ribcage.

“Then why were you avoiding me?” Maybe it is the moon, or the cold water, but you sound more serene, calmer than how you were a moment ago. “Did I say something that upset you in the attic?” You ask. “Or did you see something? Something that made you feel weird?”

“it wasn’t like that…” He says, even when he did feel weird looking at your photos (invading your memories). “it’s just…”

The words hang in the air for a moment, before you push a little more.

“Just…?”

He takes a deep breath, and swallows his embarrassment.

“that thing you said,” He starts. “about how this whole ‘full moon’ thing affected you…”

“Yes…?” You encourage him to continue.

Sans plays with his fingers, trying to distract himself. “it’s just that it is… _monstrously_ similar to something that happens to us…”

“Is that so?” You ask out loud. “Why was it such a big problem?” You wonder cautiously.

“we… we have this…” He struggles with words, unsure where to start. “do you remember this morning’s talk, about how reproduction works for different animals and stuff?” Sans hears you hum, so he takes another deep breath and continues. “well… monsters have something like that too…”

His face is so blue he would be surprised if you could see it from the lake.

“i-i-it’s called s-soul… mating,” He finally blurts out. “a monster’s soul is pretty much all the monster, so when we want to… mate, our souls join and do… _stuff_.” He continued, trembling a little. “sometimes they, uh, leave… _something_ after the mating is over, and that thing becomes a new monster. but the thing is that, just before it happens you…”

He stops, the last word floating in the air. He can’t continue, no more, please.

“… you feel like your soul wants to jump out of your body?” You suggest, and he jumps in his place.

“i-i-it’s stupid! i know!” He quickly states. “but… knowing that you were feeling that… i just… i couldn’t…” He tries to say, quickly hiding his face inside his hoodie, even when there’s no one to see him. “… i didn’t want to worry you, red, sorry…”

There’s a long silence, between the two of you.

_Until you break it._

“Have you ever done it before?” You ask. “Soul Mating-”

“no!” Sans jumps, his face a dark shade of blue and his voice shaky. “of course i haven’t… i mean… that’s just…” He rambles, hiding his face even more.

Your laugh fills the air, too loud and too wild, closer than before.

“Okay, okay, I get it…” You say, and Sans can hear the smirk in your voice. “There’s no need to be embarrassed, we’ve all been there.”

“shup up.”

“It’s okay, I swear!”

“stop laughing!”

“I’m not laughing! It’s just giggling!”

“red-!” He stops, petrified in his place.

“What?” You ask with a mischievous smile. Sans just stays there, his body half turning, his face peeking from behind the tree. “… Sans?”

He can’t talk, he can’t move, he can’t even think. All he can do is see how the moonlight hits your figure while the stars shine in the lake behind you and the candles surround you. And you’re just there, drying your hair with a towel in the place where an angel should be standing, like you didn’t look like a celestial apparition, like the world didn’t stop turning just so he could dwell in this image for another second.

It feels like a lifetime and an instant just took place at the same time, before you take a step closer.

“Sans?” You call him. “Are you okay?”

He just nods, quickly getting on his feet to help to gather your things to start the way home.

“So, what do you think of Day 1?” You ask, leading the way.

“day 1?” Sans asks, still a little dizzy from before. Unconsciously (or maybe very consciously) he walks a little closer to you than usual.

“Haven’t I told you?” You question out loud. “Full Moon lasts three days.”

Sans smiles, while the electric currents of magic run up and down his spine and his chest feels like someone is holding his Soul in a fist.

“ _really_?”

_There’s no way he can survive another two days of this._

* * *

“DO YOU THINK THEY ARE ALREADY TOGETHER?!” Papyrus asks excited. “MAYBE THEY HAVE CONFESED THEY LOVE FOR EACH OTHER AND ARE PLANING THE WEDDING!” He continues, little stars appearing in his eyes.

“I don’t know, Paps.” Max says, lying in his bed while passing the pages of one of his astronomy books. “Don’t you think it would be too sudden?”

“OF COURSE NOT!” Papyrus exclaims, jumping to his feet. “BESIDES,” He continues. “WOULDN’T IT BE MAGNIFICENT IF MY LAZY BROTHER AND YOUR MOTHER HAPPENED TO FALL IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER?!” He questions, without waiting for Max to say anything. “JUST THINK OF ALL THE THINGS WE COULD DO TOGETHER! LIKE PLAYING, AND COOKING, AND READING STORIES!”

“But we already do all those things, Paps…” Max points out.

“YEAH!” Papyrus says. “BUT WE’LL DO IT AS A FAMILY!”

Papyrus continues to jump and talk about all the good point of being a family (“THE GREAT PAPYRUS’ FAMILY!”) while Max sighs and continues passing the pages of his book.

He isn’t sure how he should say that he isn’t so excited with that idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am alieeeeeeeeeeeeve and so, so sorry ;w;  
> I'm really, really, reaaaaaaally sorry for disappearing ;w;  
> I got awfully anxious after not being able to keep up with the updates, even when this is something we all are doing for fun, I just couldn't handle the idea of disappointing someone and, well, disappeared from everywhere...  
> I thought about saying this when I had a chapter to post, but finding time to write just became so difficult, and I just started feeling worse and worse... I'm so sorry for worrying you all ;w;  
> Witchcraft isn't dead, or in adoption, it is just... moving slowly, but it's moving, I promise.  
> I won't be able to update as constantly as before, but I'll keep writing, and I'll update whenever I can (which also means that I can make longer chapter, horray!).  
> Once again, I'm really, really sorry for everything.  
> Please, keep enjoying Witchcraft with me, thank you all ^^  
> P.D: In other news, this is the longest chapther yet, 5308 words, yay! (The second longest is New Moon Prayers, with 4503 words :3)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I'm Safire, and I'm Witchcraft's author, thank you for reading! :3  
> English isn't my first language; so please, feel free to point any mistake you find and help grow as a writer, I'll appreciate your help (even if I cry a little in the process) :3  
> \------  
> Updates: Studies won't let me write in peace, so updates have been changed to whenever I can, but always with tons of love for my dear, dear readers. You all are amazing, thank you c:  
> \------  
> [Talk to me on tumblr! :3](http://dark-safire.tumblr.com/)  
> [Or ask me something ^w^](http://dark-safire.tumblr.com/InterrogationRoom)  
> [Or submit a work related to Witchcraft <3](http://dark-safire.tumblr.com/submit)  
> \------  
> I'm currently editing the first chapters with the help of CurlyCue, my messiah.  
> May the gods bless her ;w;  
> \------  
> Hope you're enjoying Witchcraft! ^w^


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